The Cosmic Law of French Toast
by Meowser Clancy
Summary: A collection of sweet one shots showing Melinda and Jim, from how I've interpreted their relationship. Lots of sexy stuff. Dedicated to GhostWhispererFangirl. (Because she's awesome.) Cover image courtesy of GhostWhispererFangirl. COMPLETE.
1. Whipped Cream

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A Ghost Whisperer Fanfiction

Summary: A collection of sweet one shots showing Melinda and Jim, from how I saw their relationship. Lots of sexy stuff. Oh, and I'm only in the first season so far.

* * *

Jim woke up slowly, just in time to see his naked wife jump from the bed and a moment too late to catch her.

"Morning," he said, and she turned around.

"You're awake," she replied, eyes twinkling as she looked on the floor for something to put on.

"Come back here," he said. "Don't worry about clothes. We're very casual here." He patted the bed beside him as she grabbed a long sleeved button down shirt of his and pulled it on.

"You have an early shift," Melinda scolded, buttoning the shirt with alacrity. He closed his eyes in disappointment, trying to keep the image of nude Melinda in his mind.

The bed dipped beside him and he jerked his eyes back open in time to see Melinda lean over him. "I'm going to make you french toast," she promised, and he tried to steal a kiss.

"No," she giggled, jumping off the bed again. "You shower and dress and a hot, delicious breakfast will be waiting for you."

He looked at her under lidded eyes. "What else will be waiting?" He asked, climbing from the bed and striding towards her.

Her eyes widened and she deliberately toyed with the buttons on her shirt. "I don't know," she murmured, looking up at him. "It depends how quick you are dressing."

"I'm very good at undressing," he promised and grabbed her hand, yanking her to him in a breathless moment. He lowered his lips to capture hers, sucking her bottom lip until she moaned.

Two small hands pushed against his chest and he captured them in his own, forestalling the inevitable moment when she'd escape.

"Jim, what about breakfast?" She gasped, pulling away and his lips landed on her neck, moving over the curve of it with dozens of featherlight kisses. He found her collar bone and sucked there, eliciting an aroused gasp from her.

"What about french toast? You love french toast," she managed to gasp out as her hands went to tangle in his hair.

He moved his head farther down to where the top button was on her shirt. His shirt, he reflected, and decided to reclaim it "I like this a lot more than french toast," he said, about to reach his goal: her breasts. His hands twitched in anticipation of cradling them and he momentarily slowed in his pursuit.

She darted away at the last second, dashing to the door where she was out of his grasp and range.

He saw that, underneath the shirt, her nipples had pebbled.

Her cheeks were flushed and she put her hand on the doorknob. "French toast," she reminded. "And you can shower."

She twisted the doorknob and escaped into the hall. He accepted defeat when he heard her light footsteps on the stairs, realized that she really meant it and headed the opposite way down the hall to the bathroom.

Maybe a hot shower would calm him down.

* * *

The hot shower did indeed calm him down, and he recognized Melinda's wisdom in pushing him away. He did have the early shift.

He dressed quickly, suddenly in a hurry, and made it down to the kitchen in record time, taking a moment to brush the hair from Melinda's neck and press a kiss there.

"Oh, Jim," she murmured, and he pulled away.

"I know, I know," he sighed. "Busy day ahead of me."

A bowl of whipped cream was placed in front of him and he heard the scrape of a turner against the skillet.

Melinda turned to serve her and her breasts pressed against his arm, completely distracting him from the smells in the air.

"Melinda," he warned, his eyes sparkling up at her, and she winked before moving in back of him.

"French toast," she announced, and placed it before him. "And I missing anything?" She saw the bowl of whipped cream. "I put that on the table already? No wonder I missed it."

Jim surveyed the table, knowing that something else was missing too.

Melinda scooped a large helping of whipped cream. "Ready?"

"Cinnamon," he said, reaching for it at the same moment she overturned the spoonful of whipped cream and her scoop landed on his arm, squarely on the elbow of his blue paramedic uniform's shirt.

"Oh," she gasped and he stood up like a shot, only to see the mischief in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She began.

He shook his head, grabbing her before she could dart away from him and pressing his arm to her neck, getting the cream all over her.

"Jim!" She protested but tried to help him when he started to take his shirt off and her hands tangled with him, delaying the job.

He managed to get it over his head and was going to inspect the damage but his eyes caught the sight of the spray of whipped cream on Melinda's face going down to her chest.

She dipped her fingers in the whipped cream. "More?" She asked, giggling at the sight of him and his hand swiped her cheek of the cream there before leaning in.

Their lips brushed and she pulled away. "We should clean—" She began, but the look in her eyes changed and she leaned towards him again, letting him move toward her.

She tried to kiss him, her lips already parted, but he dodged, moving to wipe the cream from her chin and smearing it onto the washcloth that was on the table. He repeated the motion, going in as if for a kiss and instead wiping the cream.

He slowed after the second time, pausing to just look at Melinda.

She stared up at him and he moved his hand up to cradle her neck, holding her still for when he moved in, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her.

Her arms went around his neck so she could get closer and he anticipated the motion by tightening his arms around her waist and bringing her up with him as he straightened.

Her feet dangled above his and he moved the extra step to the counter.

"Melinda," he rasped, lifting her onto it.

"Jim," she whispered back, and he moved his lips to her neck again.

"There's still cream here," he murmured, and licked it off her neck.

Her arm moved to his wait, grabbing his back. "There's more on the table," she reminded and he laughed into her neck, licking the last bit of cream away.

"Do you really mean that?" He asked, and she nodded against his head.

He pulled away slowly, feeling as though they'd been glued together, but turned around to grab the bowl and when he faced Melinda again all the blood in his body seemed to rush to on place.

She'd unbuttoned and thrown off the shirt. He didn't even care about the whipped cream when he saw her, and he placed it on the counter next to her without paying attention to it.

"Melinda," he said, trying to grab her again but she picked up the spoon and gave it to him.

"Do it," she urged, and he could see her pulse jump in her throat when he took it, their fingers brushing together.

He spread the cream onto one breast, paying special attention to her nipple, and she shivered at the touch of the cool metal spoon.

He smeared the cream onto her other breast, making brief eye contact and she swallowed, again just looking at him.

His head dipped and he tasted sweet cream and the even sweeter taste of Melinda's skin beneath it.

He swept his mouth all over before going to the nipple and uncovering it, sucking on it, feeling and hearing her sharp intake of breath as he did so.

He pulled away, his lips covered in cream. "Do you want me to do the other?" He asked, teasing her by licking the cream off of his lips instead of letting her do it, as he knew she'd want to.

This wasn't the first time Melinda had played with her food.

She tried to kiss him but he moved so her lips landed on his neck.

"Should I do the other?" He repeated.

"Mmhmm," she said against his neck, sucking on it lightly.

"What's that?" He teased, moaning when she sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

"Yes, please," she gasped, moving away. "Did I have to ask?"

He again met her gaze before lowering his head, seeing her shiver from the look in his eyes. "Yes," he said simply.

He went straight to the nipple this time, and she jerked, her gasp of pleasure cutting through the air.

Her legs opened and he stepped between them, pressing himself against her as he legs closed around his waist.

"Um, honey, I think your french toast is getting cold," she said suddenly, seeing over his head the still full plate.

He groaned and pulled away. "Do I have to?"

She dived forward, capturing his lips and lunging off the counter to be fully reliant on him. Her legs locked around his waist and his arms locked around her waist in return as he took a step back to adjust his stance to her weight.

He could feel her bare, still sticky, breasts pressing against the skin over his tank top.

"I love you, Melinda," he managed to say when she came up for air.

"Jim, I love you," she said, and the french toast was utterly forgotten.


	2. Jealousy

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: This is before they're married, as you will soon see.

* * *

He was meeting Melinda for drinks and he was late.

Not 'give-me-two-minutes' late.

Not 'my-partner-made-me' late.

Not 'yeah-I-should-have-called' late.

Not even 'Cinderella's-carriage-just-turned-into-a-pumpkin' late.

No, late as in, she could have played an entire game of Monopoly and still had time to spare before he got there.

He didn't even know if she'd still be there. If she was sane, she would have left a long time ago. This was only their third date: she probably thought he'd stood her up because she hadn't known him long enough to know that Jim Clancy _never_ stood a girl up. Especially one as—unique as Melinda Gordon was looking to be.

But sometimes he was _really_ late.

Like now.

He finally found a space in the maze of cars that filled the parking lot and pulled into it, almost diving from the car the instant he'd taken the keys from the ignition.

He really couldn't be sure that she'd be there and he braced himself for disappointment when he opened the door to the bar.

The first scan of the room seemed to show no Melinda but he went more slowly the second time and wished that he knew what she'd be wearing.

And then he saw her, just like that, he thought, sitting at the bar, hair pulled into the high ponytail he already loved seeing on her.

He took a step forward. Yes, it was her, and she was talking to someone.

He almost turned around then and there. She was talking to a guy that was 'hotter' than he could ever be, with blond hair and a face that women called chiseled, with blue eyes that seemed to jump out of his face and a muscled body that put every man in the room to shame.

But Jim Clancy didn't stand his dates up. So he mustered up his courage and walked towards them, wishing he felt confident enough in his relationship with Melinda to stake his claim.

But oh hell, did he even have a claim? Especially at this point? This was only their third date.

But he realized, in the next moment, watching her laugh at something the other man said, that he'd be damned if it was their last one.

He took another step and she turned a bit, causing the breath to whoosh out of his lungs in a strangled gasp.

Melinda must like him somewhat, he decided, because otherwise she wouldn't have dressed...in _that_ dress.

It was black and short and off the shoulder and suddenly all he wanted was to press a kiss to her tantalizingly bare neck.

The dress hugged her body, showing her large breasts and tiny waist and her blossoming hips to a perfect advantage, showcasing curves that could drive any man crazy.

For another moment he was again plagued by doubts. What if she had only stayed for the blond sitting next to her?

He said something to her, leaning close, and Melinda's face suddenly grew more serious. She turned further away from him and that was when it became too late to retreat because she saw Jim in that moment, standing there with an almost wilted pink rose.

She slipped from the bar stool without saying goodbye to her companion, cutting through the crowd to reach him.

"Jim!" She cried, actually happy to see him. "You...made it."

"I got stuck," he explained. "So stuck. I did not intend to take this long getting here. I should have called. I am so sorry."

The anxious look departed from her face and she beamed up at him. "You brought me roses?"

"A rose," he corrected. His mind was blanking out from the sight of her looking up at him like that. Under his scrutiny she rolled her shoulders back slightly and it did amazing and shocking things to her breasts for such a small gesture.

"Can I have it?" She asked, sticking a hesitant hand out and he realized, a moment too late, that he'd been staring at her.

She was flushed; he wasn't sure from what but red stained her cheeks and she looked down as he handed her the rose.

"Of course," he said, daring to close her hands around the stem and shivered from the brief contact.

She looked up again and licked her lips. His heart made a spasm and he wondered if she'd done it intentionally.

"Anyway. I didn't mind waiting for you because I met this interesting person," she broke eye contact and whirled around to face her companion.

Jim's gaze shot to her ass and immediately cursed himself for looking.

"Tony, this is Jim," she said. "And Jim, Tony."

"He's the guy who was standing you up?" Tony asked and Jim's jaw clenched even though he knew the accusation was more than fair.

"Um, yeah," Melinda said, glancing over her shoulder at Jim to check his reaction.

Jim forced himself forward and stuck out his hand. "I'm Jim, what else can I say?" He did _not_ say, nice to meet you, because it wasn't.

Tony seemed to notice the distinction and smirked. He briefly laid a hand on Melinda's bare shoulder, caressing it before reaching to take Jim's hand.

Jim blinked, feeling something snap inside of him. "Hey, Melinda," he said. "It's late, so let's get something quickly. I knew a pie bakery that's open until one."

Tony squeezed Melinda's shoulder again. "You know, we were having kind of a good time before you showed up, late, I may add."

Jim realized he was in danger of forever losing Melinda. He also realized that there was nothing he could do about it...except back off. Melinda had to choose and if it wasn't Jim—well, he shouldn't have been late.

Melinda's eyes flicked to Tony's hand on her shoulder. It may have been Jim's imagination but he would've sworn that she looked uncomfortable.

"Pie sounds—"

"Awful at this time of night," Tony said. "Let's blow this joint and I'll take you somewhere hot."

Melinda stiffened. "Tony—"

"You know what I offered," Tony murmured and his other hand grabbed her ass.

Melinda shot out of his reach in a flash, bumping into Jim in her hurry. His hands were already clenched into fists and he was about to swing at Tony but Melinda brushed her hand against his. "Pie sounds great," she said, grabbed his wrist and started walking.

Jim being Jim; Jim being her perfect match; Jim being helplessly in love with her already, Jim followed her out without a second thought.

* * *

Once out of the bar, Melinda's head was still spinning and her heart pounded. Yes, she'd been hit on by drunk guys before but never like that, never so obviously in front of other people.

"He was a scumbag," she said. "I didn't see that coming."

"There's still time for me to beat him up, you know," Jim said beside her.

Her hand seemed to burn where she held his wrist and she abruptly dropped it.

She backtracked over the evening in her mind: the long time it had taken to pick a dress—sexy but not slutty and it was only the third date, even if felt like she'd known Jim _forever_ —and then the nervous ride over and then the wait for him where Tony had kept her company. And Tony had been interesting, for as a world traveler he'd regaled her with tales of his escapades. But all the time one man had been paramount in her mind.

Jim.

Tony _wasn't_ Jim.

And she _wanted_ Jim. She _really_ wanted him, wanted him to stay in her life.

And he hadn't shown up. She'd ordered another drink to stay off the cold hand of panic on her heart and Tony had kept talking. His hand had brushed her breast more than once and, after a third drink, she'd let it.

And then Jim had shown up and her heart had stilled in her body.

She didn't want him to see her like that, with Tony like that. So she'd jumped up and the starstruck look in his eyes had sobered her up in an instant.

She'd at least dressed wisely.

He wanted her back. The way he kept staring, and the way his eyes had always returned to her face naturally had impressed her. He'd already told her she had beautiful eyes. She was starting to believe he meant it.

For now.

"Let's get a cab," Melinda said.

"I have my car," Jim volunteered.

"Okay, where is it?"

"Did you leave your things?" He asked, turning around.

She reached to grab his arm. "I have my purse."

"You didn't bring a jacket?" He asked, concerned.

She shrugged and delighted in the way his eyes followed the motion. "I didn't need it then. And I hadn't intended on being out so late when I dressed."

He flushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, okay?" She said, holding his gaze and pressing a finger to his lips.

Jim reached up with one hand and touched the finger that was on his lips. He wrapped his whole hand around it like a baby would, holding her gaze every moment.

"Let me give you my jacket," he said, his voice low as they stared at each other, glued to the spot on the sidewalk.

"Okay," she said. "On one condition. You have to wear it too."

"Meaning?" Jim asked, his voice getting dangerously husky.

"Whatever you want it to," she breathed.

"You're so different from any other girl I've ever met," he breathed back.

She knew her eyes showed her panic at the simple line. "So? Is that bad?"

He shrugged out of his jacket. "It's very...very...good."

He lowered his head to lean his forehead against hers. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"I'm glad you didn't ask," she breathed, and closed the gap.


	3. Fight

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

When she left the shop to go home, Jim was waiting outside, leaning on her red jeep.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, running to meet him and wincing at the pain it caused to shoot to her knee.

"I came to meet you," he said, sliding his arms around her. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, Jim," she said and winced again when she stepped the wrong way.

"It doesn't look like you are," he scolded, immediately halting them by dropping to one knee in front of her. "What happened to your knee, Melinda? And why are you limping?"

"I fell," she said flatly.

His fingers gently probed her leg, moving up and down in a movement that made her shiver.

"I think your ankle might be sprained," he frowned and started to roll up her jean leg.

She stopped him. "Can we wait until we get home to do this? Honestly, I just want a hot bath right now."

"That might be a little hard to arrange," he said but straightened. "I'm not letting go of any of this," he warned. "I'll just let it rest until we get home."

She just sighed.

* * *

When they got home, Jim sought out the first aid kit immediately. He could've used the items in his paramedic bag but Melinda would never have let him.

Even now, she moved reluctantly, wiggling out of her jeans and into cotton shorts so he could see her legs better.

He led her to a kitchen chair and gently pushed her down to sit, and he sat on his feet in front of her.

"I took care of my knee already," she protested, swatting his hand away.

"Let me," he warned, meeting her gaze and she looked away.

He cleaned it again and Melinda winced at the sting of the alcohol-based disinfectant.

"Will a kiss make you feel better?" He asked and she shook her head.

Hmm.

He pressed a kiss to her knee anyway, not regretting it even when he tasted the antiseptic. Mm, that might have been a mistake.

He inspected her ankle again, bringing her foot to rest in his lap. "It's a very slight sprain but it's a sprain nonetheless. I want to wrap it."

He looked at her in question and she shrugged. "You do what you gotta do."

It didn't look to be a promising night.

* * *

It wasn't.

"All right, fine. Good night," he said.

"Yeah, that's what I said," she bit back.

He ignored her tone. "I love you too."

Silence. Even though they were openly fighting, it hurt more than he thought it would when she didn't say it back.

He raked a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. Was it really such an unreasonable request? It was becoming dangerous, for God's sake, and he wanted—he _always_ wanted—Melinda to return to him safe and sound.

Hours passed. He could tell Melinda had fallen asleep by the pace of her breathing and, more obviously, the fact that she was now facing him because of turning in her sleep.

He did the same, rolling to face her the instant he felt the bed shift and the toss of her arms hitting the bed. He stared at his wife. Her hair, so brown and invitingly tangled by sleep right now.

He eyes, closed tight against the night.

Her full breasts, jumping over the neckline of her nightgown.

He wanted to touch her. Hell, he wanted more than that. He wanted to make love to her, to make her scream his name in a moment of passion that made her realize that he was right, or at least that he was only doing this because he loved her. More than anything, he just didn't want to be fighting right now.

He imagined, or remembered, kissing her awake, sipping at the honey of her lips until she moaned, blinking awake. Then he would kiss down to her breasts, and after spending a leisurely amount of time there, worshiping, he'd move even lower, kissing a line of fire down her belly.

The imagined sensations came like fire to him, and he especially wished they weren't fighting then.

But they were. And he didn't want the heartache he was sure to feel when Melinda pushed him away, too angry and too tired to make love tonight.

She had powerful self-control, his wife. Tempting her had never worked before.

So he rolled over and finally, fitfully, fell asleep.

* * *

When Melinda awoke, Jim's arms were tight around her; one hand on her breast and the other resting on her hip.

"Figures," she muttered, wiggling away from him. "Even when fighting and sleeping, men think with their penises."

But she found herself shivering when, in her haste to get away, his hand brushed her already pebbled nipple.

"Oh, Jim," she breathed, wanting nothing more than to settle back into his arms or, better yet, kiss him until he woke up and kissed her back. She knew how he made her feel, and she knew how she could make him feel.

Good. Better than good. Like they were in heaven, just the two of them.

She could imagine the sleepy surprise that would first grace his face, then the delight that they were done fighting. He'd roll her over and take charge, kissing her until she couldn't fathom ever fighting with the man she loved so much, with every fiber of her being.

Then she remembered _why_ they were fighting. He 'couldn't let her' do _what she did_ anymore. He was angry with her for trying to _help_ as Melinda always did.

And she realized, regretting it even as she did so, that this was one time she couldn't give in.

* * *

Jim was very disappointed when Melinda left the bed after all. For one glorious moment she'd settled back into him. He knew putting his hand over her breast would do the trick.

For one moment, he'd thought she'd turn around and kiss him awake.

But that's all it had been.

A moment. They were still fighting.

* * *

A/N: This is from the episode _Friendly Neighborhood Ghost,_ where they fight over whether Melinda should help their neighbor or not.

Edited on 6-24-2016 to add:

If you liked this you should SERIOUSLY check out chapter 13 of Melinda and Jim: The Lost Scenes by GhostWhispererFangirl. It's also a tag to this episode and it's SO GOOD and you won't believe how good it is.


	4. Another's

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: This is after they've met _once_ before. I broke it into three parts to update faster.

* * *

"Hey, Jim, meet my friend Sean,' Patrick called over the din.

Jim edged his way over to his friend, holding the cups of alcohol he held high above the gyrating crowd.

"Sean, this is my buddy Jim," Patrick said. "Jim, Sean. Oh, and there's Sean's date coming over." He waved at her then turned to Sean. "It's Melissa, right?"

"Melinda," Sean corrected and JIm's gaze shot to the newcomer, suddenly interested. It couldn't be the girl he'd met earlier—but it was. Melinda was a rather uncommon name after all.

She had changed from earlier's jeans, plaid shirt and tank into a black dress with white polka dots.

Still, same as earlier, he couldn't take his eyes away from her. Her hair was down now, cascading around her shoulders and he found himself missing the high ponytail.

"And this is Jim," Patrick finished. "Jim, Melinda."

Melinda's eyes sparked when they met his. "I think we met," she said, laughing as she reached a small hand over to shake his.

His hand enveloped hers, as, paramedic instinct, he pressed his fingers to the pulse on her wrist. He'd tried that move before on other, lesser, girls but Melinda was the first whose pulse actually jumped at his touch. And this was the second time he'd done it.

His gaze moved up her body, wanting to linger on her hips and chest, but not stopping until he reached her face. "Yeah, this morning outside the library"

He reluctantly pulled his hand away; Sean was giving him the evil eye and now took the extra step of flinging an arm around Melinda's shoulders.

She startled and quickly turned to look at her date instead of Jim.

"You went to the library?" Patrick joked, shoving Jim.

"Hey, I didn't say I was inside," Jim protested.

"Patrick's right, you know," Sean said. "Mel, honey, what were you doing at the library? At last check we've graduated college by now."

"You know me," Melinda joked. "I wanted to do some research and the internet is out at my apartment."

"Babe, I said you should come over to my place if it happened again," Sean said.

"I forgot," Melinda said. "And I was on my lunchbreak and in a hurry."

"My place is closer to where you work," Sean said stubbornly, not letting it go.

"She'd been to the cafe, too," Jim said. "It was her lunch break. She almost spilled her coffee all over me."

Sean burst out laughing. "That's Melinda, isn't it?"

Melinda stared at Jim, knowing that he was lying without any idea why he would be.

"You guys look like you need drinks," Jim said smoothly, completely changing the subject. "Sean, Mel—inda?"

"Beer," Sean said dismissively.

"Do you think they have tequila?" Melinda asked, rising onto her toes as if by doing so she could see into the kitchen. Jim reflected on how new it was that such a small gesture could so many things to him.

"I can check," Jim said. "But as far as I know, Dake's the kind of guy to have anything and everything on hand at these parties. Be right back." He downed his own beer and handed the other plastic cup to Patrick. "There's your milk."

"Very funny," Patrick called after him.

Jim used the distance to try to sort his thoughts out. At least now he knew why Melinda had rejected him earlier: a subtle rejection, to be sure, but a rejection nonetheless.

But now he knew that it was only because she had a boyfriend. Jim didn't know Sean terribly well, but he knew him enough to remember that every time he'd seen him he'd had a different girl on his arm.

So too bad for Melinda—but maybe not too bad. She'd looked uncomfortable with the possessiveness Sean was showing. Hell, maybe she'd do the breaking up.

He reached the kitchen and managed another beer. The tequila was trickier and he ended up taking virgin Margarita mix simply because he couldn't find any. "Dake, you have any tequila?" He managed to ask when his host crashed into him.

"It's long gone," Dake panted before thrusting himself back onto the dance floor.

Jim considered getting a wine cooler or something but decided against it.

Later in the evening, if he could get Melinda alone again, he'd rather she wasn't drunk. Earlier she'd had such vivacity, glowing eyes and pealing laughters. He didn't want to dull any of that.

He made his way back across the dance floor to where Patrick was and Melinda and Sean—weren't.

"Where'd they go?" He asked, forcing a casual tone to cover the panic he felt. If Melinda had left, he might never see her again. Fate had intervened for them once; could he really expect it to do so again?

"They're dancing," Patrick said. "And what moves. I'd like to get me some of that."

Jim's head jerked around so fast it hurt. He searched the dance floor until he located her and when he did he knew he wouldn't lose her in the crowd again.

She danced like a professional, like someone who'd studied hard how to turn men on. Her hips moved in ways that made Jim's mouth go dry, and the way she brushed against Sean made him clench his fists to keep himself from taking her away and taking Sean out.

She tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Jim suddenly knew how vampires felt.

She spun around Sean, keeping close to him and Jim could see the look Sean gave her.

It was a look that he never wanted to see another man give Melinda.

"No," he muttered. "Sean's not even..."

She curled her leg around his and Sean leaned in for a kiss.

Jim turned away. "Hey, keep those safe," he said, shoving the drinks at Patrick. "I need some air," he excused himself and shoved past his friend outside.

A pretty redhead, with unbelievable legs encased in very short shorts, passed him on her way into the house. Jim briefly checked her out but the only thought that registered was the fact that nothing about her measured up to Melinda, that she wasn't Melinda and that she didn't even compare to Melinda.

And Melinda was taken. He remembered meeting her earlier...

* * *

A/N: I'm sure you can tell what next time will be.

EDITED 7-19-2015 to say: I had no idea that the show actually covered their first meeting. So, for chapters 4, 5, and 6, I mark them as AU. But only those three! The rest should be canon compliant.


	5. Flight

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Melinda felt a surge of triumph as she finally found what she was looking for. Standing on her toes, she dragged the large research book from the top shelf and made her way over to the table where she'd left her purse.

"There has to be something in here about furniture," she reflected, flipping it open to the contents page and running her finger down it. "Paranormal studies, page 93."

She flipped to the it and read the passage quickly. "Some allege that they can talk to the dead...unproved science...blah blah...methods employed...pubescent boys and girls are susceptible..." She trailed off, a frown growing. "This is useless," she groaned and slammed the book shut. "And Mr. Jameson will be missing me. I should just go back."

She worked at an antique shop, something she'd always wanted to do. Someday she even hoped to own one—but wishful thinking didn't help anyone.

She put the book back onto the shelf and grabbed her purse before striding from the library, feeling suddenly self-conscious among all the students. When she'd gone here to actually study for school, she'd never look like this, dressed in old jeans that were a bit too faded, a tank that had seen better days and an oversized men's plaid shirt that Mr. Jameson had given to her when she came in.

"We'll be moving a lot of furniture around today," he explained. "You did wear old clothes, like you said, but if you don't cover your arms you could scratch yourself on something."

She remembered his words and she started to roll the sleeves down again when she emerged from the library into the crisp autumn air. God, she loved this season.

She continued to roll her sleeves down, head tilted down to look at them and purse tucked precariously under one arm.

"Can I make it up tomorrow?" A male voice asked beside her and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn't stand people who talked on their cell phones as if they rest of the world wanted to hear their call.

"No, I _can_ do it," the man was backing up, staring at something higher up. The purse under Melinda's arm shifted and dropped, and she dived after it.

She hit the pavement and grabbed her purse, on hands and knees, and the man on the oh-so-important phone call never turned around as he started to walk backwards.

She knew what was going to happen before it did, bracing herself for when he tripped over her and, somehow, ended up on top of her, the phone skittering out of his hands and across the sidewalk. At least she'd ended his phone call, she thought with some small measure of satisfaction.

She was now flat on the sidewalk, and she could feel the man's hard, muscled back pressing into her own lower back. He struggled to get up and she winced when, in his hurry to get up, pressed on her ass with his hand.

"I am so sorry," the man said immediately, jerking his hand up the instant he realized just where he'd placed it. He made it up and Melinda rolled over to sit up but she paused when she saw him. Really saw him.

His sunglasses had broken when they'd fallen off his face after he'd tripped over her, and now she saw piercing gray eyes filled with concern as he looked down at her. She rose onto her elbows, not missing the way his gaze shot to her chest at the movement.

She was used to men looking but this time, this _man_ , didn't annoy her as most did. Instead she felt herself warm under his gaze. She inhaled, letting her chest grow as she looked up at him but he impressed her even more when he moved his eyes back to her face.

Someone had taught him manners.

"Let me help you," he muttered, thrusting a hand down for her to take. She accepted it and shivered at the ease with which he pulled her up; one smooth motion and no resistance.

" _I'm_ sorry," she began. "I'm the one who should apologize because I'm the one who was lying all over the sidewalk. I dropped my purse."

"Yes, but I was paying absolutely no attention to my surroundings," he said. "I shouldn't have been walking backwards. Are you hurt?"

The question came quickly, startling her. His whole demeanor seemed to change, as if he suddenly saw her in a whole new light or as if he'd become a different person.

"I-I'm fine," she stuttered. Her hand was still in his and felt the strength and warmth and size of his hands keenly. Her hand was _completely_ covered by his and she felt his fingers move up to her wrist. Her pulse spiked in response.

What the hell?

He pulled his hand away. "I'm a paramedic, or training to be one," he said. "You sure you're okay? I can check out anything you mention, any bruises of scrapes you might have from the fall."

Wow, he was being serious. She could tell it wasn't just a come on and decided to have a little fun.

What Sean didn't know couldn't hurt him and it wasn't like they were serious about each other anyway.

"I am a little sore," she admitted.

"Where?" He asked, getting a little alarmed. "Do you want to sit down?"

Without waiting for her answer, he guided her over to a bench, hurrying back to brag her purse and his phone after situating her.

"I'm probably fine," she said. "Don't you have to call them back?"

"That can wait," he returned, not even looking at his phone as he shoved it into his pocket. "Where are you sore?"

He was all business, which was both sexy and frustrating. But hell, she _liked_ this. "My shoulder feels a little tender," she began and he quickly moved his hands there, not waiting to ask for permission before moving the shirt aside to see.

His fingers on her skin, combined with the fact that her shirt had slipped from her shoulder to her elbow, made her shiver in the crisp air and she saw his gaze briefly return to her cleavage.

"There's no bruising, or a scrape," he said, returning his attention to her shoulder. "No bumps."

"It was the other shoulder," she urged, but he didn't notice the teasing tone of her voice as he switched sides, pushing the plaid shirt down again. It fell swiftly, baring her arms almost completely.

"This shoulder also looks good," he said.

"I think I have a bruise on my hip; care to check it out?" She breathed.

His gaze shot to her jean-covered hip and she read his mind: he wanted x-ray vision in that moment. She saw his eyes flash as he looked up at her face again.

"I was being serious," he huffed, sitting next to her on the bench.

Her laughter pealed. "Exactly. I'm sorry but it was too much fun. You didn't even notice."

"No, I didn't," he complained, but his lips twitched and then he was fully smiling at her. "What's your name, stranger?"

"Melinda," she said.

"Unusual name," he answered.

"My mom's an unusual person," she shot back.

"No, I like it," he said, and tried the name out again, rolling his tongue over the 'L'. "Melinda. It's very feminine." His eyes met her gaze, holding it for a long moment. "Sexy."

"I always thought it was just old-fashioned," she joked, but her mirth faded away from the heat of his stare. It made her feel alive—and scared. No man had eve affected her like this. In some ways, she'd pretended they had. There were men she'd slept with only in hopes of awakening feelings like this, but this man was bringing to life something inside of her she hadn't even known existed.

And it scared her. Really scared her.

"I have to go," she said, standing up and breaking the spell. "I'm late for work."

She pulled at the shirt, bringing it back up over her shoulders and buttoning it.

"Wait," he said, jumping up.

"I"m late," she insisted.

* * *

Jim startled when the brunette beauty beside him startled, suddenly jumping up off the bench and scrambling to pull the shirt back on.

"I have to go," she said. "I'm late for work."

He jumped up too, sensing that he was about to lose her and he had no idea what he'd done wrong, and definitely not a clue that what he'd actually done was everything right. "Wait," he said, needing her number or some way to get in contact with her again.

God, she was beautiful. From the high ponytail that bounced with each step, to the legs clad in tight jeans and the low cut tank top that was now sadly covered by the plaid shirt, he found that he adored everything about her.

"I'm late," she said, and took off running.

Literally running.

He couldn't help it. It was instinct. He ran after her.

She was disappearing into the crowd of people and he pursued her until Brooks Avenue, where she suddenly just wasn't anywhere in sight.

Damn. He had a feeling he'd just lost the love of his life.

* * *

A/N: I know it sounds stupid, but it really is amazing when an actually muscled guy helps you up. Usually if someone helps you up there's resistance, you know? Like you're too heavy?

But once a guy helped me up and there was just no resistance and it was amazing. (I'm not the lightest person around.) Plus, it was nice to watch his arms ripple while he did so.


	6. Memorize

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

The sexiest, funnest girl he'd ever met and she was taken. Jim remembered the morning, remembered the intoxication he'd felt just from looking at her, touching her.

A couple came outside behind him and he idly listened to them argue before realizing something that made him tune in.

It was Melinda's voice, and Sean's. "I won't let you treat me like this," she said. "Maybe it wasn't serious between us but fucking someone else at the same party I'm at with you? We're over."

"Whatever," Sean tossed after her and went back inside, the door slamming behind him.

Jim just stared for a moment, unable to believe the scene in front of him. Melinda was standing on the porch with her hands on her hips, huffing out a puff of air before starting down the steps.

A breeze whipped up and her skirt fluttered in the wind, showing a flash of tanned thigh. Jim closed his eyes against the image, prolonging it.

A group of girls came giggling up the sidewalk to the house, and Melinda moved to the side to dodge them but it was a bad idea. The earth beneath her stiletto wasn't hard enough and she sank into it; Jim saw her flail her arms and he dived forwards to catch her. She fell frontwards against his chest, knocking them both to the ground in a wild motion.

 _Smooth move, Clancy._

They fell onto the damp earth, her on his chest and he could feel her chest flatten against his stomach. He quickly shifted so that she wouldn't feel the hardness that was already beginning between his legs.

"We keep doing this, don't we?" Melinda gasped, her legs on the ground but pushing herself up on her elbows which still perched on his chest. She stared at him, her eyes inscrutable in the dark. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"You didn't think, or maybe you hoped you wouldn't?" Jim said. "And it would be your fault entirely, considering how you literally ran away from me earlier. I tried to follow you. I made it to Brooks before I lost you."

"I'm sorry," she said cautiously. "It was stupid."

"You had a...boyfriend," he hazarded. "It wasn't stupid, just cautious."

"I don't care about Sean and I didn't then," she scoffed as she pushed herself off of him, her hands pressing into his chest in a movement that made him imagine other things. She got to her feet and he followed suit, watching as she brushed her dress off.

Bushes near them obscured them from view, Jim realized and felt glad of the fact.

He wanted to be alone with her, for the rest of his life if it was possible.

"I..." She started to speak, not looking at him. "I ran—oh, never mind."

"What?" He asked, curious now.

"I was late," she said. "That's all there is to it. I went to the library on my break and took too long because I was researching..."

"What?" He asked, moving closer and not missing the way she tilted her neck up to look at him. Sometimes he really liked being tall.

"Antiques," she said, like it was a question. "I work at an antiques shop and wanted to check something out."

"Antiques? Like old paintings?"

"And furniture and jewelry," she listed. "I handle a lot. And today Mr. Jameson, my boss, and I were taking in a new lot and I was moving furniture, thus my appearance then."

 _I liked your appearance then,_ he almost said. "You should move furniture more often," he changed it to, but still wanted to kick himself for saying such a silly thing.

"Maybe I should," she said, smiling at him and he realized what she meant.

 _Holy Mother of God. She was flirting with him. She liked him.  
_

"But why did you have to go to the library? If it was just a question about antiques, couldn't you have asked your boss?"

On the spot, Melinda blinked. Jim watched her for a moment before realizing that she didn't know how to answer the question.

Weird.

Melinda was a mysterious woman, that was definite. One with many secrets.

But, Jim decided, he liked mysteries. "Do you want to go out sometime? I overheard you and Sean, or I wouldn't be asking."

Melinda's cheeks reddened. "You heard what? Don't answer that." She ducked her head, and he found that the movement caused his heart to spasm quite painfully.

"Um...I," she was torn. He had no idea why. She liked him, right? She was flirting back. It wasn't a big deal, just one date.

 _Please say yes._

"Yes?" He asked hopefully, the word hanging in the air as Melinda messed with the skirt on her dress. Jim almost didn't mind the wait when she flipped the hem up to investigate a loose stitch.

"Yes," she breathed, dropping the skirt and finally meeting his eyes again.

She'd just won a war within herself, he surmised, and felt a smile that he couldn't suppress grow on his face.

"Good. When?"

"I don't know, my schedule can get...crazy," she said. "Let me just give you my number. We can work it out then."

"When?" He asked.

"When you call me, of course," she said shyly, looking up at him again and her eyes were so warm, so beautiful that she took his breath away again.

* * *

Jim escorted her to her car and then she got in and drove away, resisting the urge to look back or wave.

But when she pulled up outside her apartment she stayed in her car for a long moment, going over the moments spent with him. She found herself going every single detail, every tiny thing and the thoughts made her grab for the notepad in her purse. Before she quite knew what she was doing, she was writing down every instance of their encounters, starting with outside the library.

She wasn't the type to keep a diary or a journal. She hadn't since she was seven and one with a combination lock had been popular in her school. She'd begged for the book but then only written for a week.

"Did I even make it to a week?" She muttered to herself, her hands flying over the page.

She wondered why she felt the need to do this, and after tossing and turning half the night the answer came to her.

It was insurance, in case this didn't pan out. She wanted to remember Jim Clancy forever.

And somehow, the thought didn't scare her anymore.


	7. Lost

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Melinda wasn't sure why she'd thought this to be a good idea, but midnight found her stumbling around in a dark forest, searching for an earthbound spirit that, apparently, wasn't searching for her.

The night was pitch black. No moon lit the sky with his friendly face since going behind a cloud, and the stars were all hidden.

She banged her flashlight, but true to form it had lost its battery long ago. She had all the makings of a horror movie, and it spooked her more than she'd like to admit.

She was thankful for the warmness of the summer night, but not for the mosquitoes that buzzed around her, sometimes taking the initiative to bite. She scratched at another such bite and regretted ever leaving the car.

Worse yet, she knew that Jim would be frantic when he got home that night and found her missing. True, she'd left a note but she knew that it really wouldn't help assuage his feelings of panic.

After all, it was just past midnight and when he usually finished his late shift she awaited him, fast asleep in bed to reassure him.

But tonight she wasn't. And she had no idea if she ever would again, because this damned forest seemed to grow in square mile every step she took, seemed to become darker and more mysterious; each tree she passed she never saw again.

She had realized a long time ago that she'd left her cell phone in the car, and again mentally slapped herself for her foolishness. Good God, these were elementary school safety measures! _Don't leave your phone, always check your batteries, don't leave the car..._

But the spirit had been so insistent that she'd expected to meet it here. He'd led her on a merry chase indeed, until he was gone and Melinda was lost, in a forest that was infamous for the amount of people who got lost in it each year.

She was as good as gone.

And that was when she heard a twig snap behind her and the night really turned into a horror movie.

She considered all of the options and didn't like any of them. _Animal, person, wind..._

 _If it's a person, do I want to call attention to myself?_

A rippling breeze made her shiver, wrapping her arms around herself. She thanked God she'd at least had the sense to put a jean jacket on over her nightgown before leaving the house. It was a warm night, but it was still night.

She steeled herself for what turning around would reveal, but Melinda didn't cross ghosts over for nothing. She would _always_ turn around, no matter what she feared to be behind her.

And it was nothing. She searched the whole landscape, darting between trees and examining every dark shadow. Nothing.

Still...

She was able to pinpoint the direction she came in, how she wasn't sure, and started walking as swiftly as she dared. Darkness, though not a friend, was something she'd grown accustomed to after years of ghost hunting, and now she was able to make her path steadily, only tripping occasionally.

The forest floor was rather 'clean'; no roots stuck out and it was dry with occasional patches of grass.

Melinda made her way through the trees, wondering if she'd ever emerge and whether or not she'd guessed correctly at which direction to take.

Her heart thudded in her ears and she suddenly began to doubt herself.

 _Jim, I'm sorry. I think the next you'll see me I might be a ghost. Hell, in that case you won't be seeing me. I'll be seeing you and unable to communicate to you._

 _I'd haunt you forever, husband of mine. I'd haunt you until I found someone who could tell you how sorry I am. How stupid it was of me to leave the house at this hour, to go to this impossible place and get lost._

Her thoughts were even spooking her. "Get it together," she muttered, and suddenly decided that talking would aid her. "I know it's not attractive to talk to yourself, but I think I have to at this point. At least my voice is a bit less macabre than my thoughts. I won't dare voice any of these fears, at any rate."

She felt foolish when she realized that talking in this deserted forest still made her uncomfortable. "Yeah, and who's going to hear me?" She scoffed, raising her voice. "Mr. Squirrel, come at me."

She misjudged a step and almost plummeted to the ground, and it was then that she heard another twig crack.

"Oh, hell, my voice actually attracted something." Her eyes widened as she spun around, cursing herself and her big mouth.

She only knew that she saw a flash of _something,_ and terror's instinct took over, even though common sense said to stand her fucking ground and see who/what it was.

All her brain was processing, however, was DANGER and she spun around again, facing anything but _it_ and ran. She yanked her nightgown up to her thighs and simply ran, not paying attention to where she was going in the least.

And there were footsteps behind her.

Soon she couldn't even hear the footsteps, her heart thundered in her ears so loudly it blocked out the rest of the surrounding sounds. She could hear herself panting and trying to suck in enough air to breathe.

 _This is why I will never run a fucking 5K,_ she thought, and then misjudged a step. She was going to fall.

 _I'm going to fall. My life has become a horror movie in all of its glory._

"Melinda!"

The voice cut through _everything_ and she spun around again to face whoever it was.

"Melinda!"

 _Ohmygod. Jim._ "Jim!" She shrieked back and went plummeting back the way she came, until the moon _finally_ emerged.

And there was Jim, standing in a proverbial and thankfully literal patch of moonlight, staring around him for her.

"Jim!" She panted, careening down a slope towards him and he whirled to see her and then she crashed into him, throwing her arms and legs around him. He stumbled back at the initial contact and then he was sweeping his hands all over her; her face, her arms, her breasts, her waist, her ass and down her legs, as if to catalogue every individual body part.

"You're here," he gasped finally, his hands going to her waist.

"I'm here," she returned, feeling tears sting her eyes. "Jim, I'm so sorry. This was such a stupid thing to do."

He started walking. "That conversation can come later," he said, striding confidently through the trees. "Right now, I don't care enough to scold you. I just want to look at you, and touch you and hold you and, fuck, Melinda, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I thought that conversation could come later," she giggled, stroking his face with her hands. "How did you know to find me?"

"You wrote where you were going on your note," he said.

"Yes, but how did you find me?" She whispered, and buried her face in his neck for a moment, feeling overwhelmed and ohsothankful that he'd found her.

"My Melinda senses were tingling," he joked, but then stopped and lowered her to the ground. "Honestly, Mel, I'm not sure. Somehow I just knew."

"I always knew miracles existed," she said, rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

"I thought you'd never kiss me," he murmured against her lips before diving headfirst into the kiss with her, and soon they were kissing so passionately their surroundings faded away.

"I thought I'd never get to do this again," Melinda gasped, pressing a hand over his heart and finding his nipple.

"I didn't get quite that far," Jim gasped.

"You know, I've kind of always wanted to do it out in the open like this," Melinda said, and they plunged to the ground, Jim underneath.

"Maybe, but we should get blankets," Jim said.

"You just stay on the bottom," she said, and his eyes darkened as she shed her jacket and prepared for her nightgown to follow its journey.

"Mel, seriously," he said, but the nightgown went over her head and his eyes could only focus on her breasts. "Damn it, you know my weak spots."

"Yes, I do," she returned. "But I honestly thought I'd never do this again and I need this. Now."

"I surrender," he said, moaning when her hands went to his belt buckle. "Holy...you were out in this place without even _panties,_ Melinda?"

"I was in a hurry," she explained.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered.

"No, never that, just the life," she whispered back.

"Yeah, that," he grunted, and then intelligent conversation escaped them.


	8. Secret

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Jim tilted his head to the side and studied the brunette beauty in front of him. They'd been dating for about six weeks now, and having a helluva good time.

And yet.

Melinda was hiding something. Melinda was different. Melinda ran off in the middle of dates with really poor explanations. She was very easily distracted by what, to Jim, looked like specks of dust floating.

Was that her secret? Was Melinda secretly a cat impersonating the sexiest woman Jim had ever met? A woman that he could easily see himself spending the rest of his life with?

No, scratch that idea.

As Jim watched, Melinda returned her dish to their server. "I'm sorry, but I asked for a well done steak and this is almost raw."

She turned her attention back to Jim, propped her hand on her chin and stared at him, eyes sparkling. "What are you thinking about?"

"Your secrets," he said, his voice flippant.

Melinda instantly stiffened and Jim almost regretted his line. It was good to know that he wasn't exaggerating things but he didn't want to make Melinda feel uncomfortable. She might even end the date early.

"What secrets?" She asked, her voice steady.

"Your secrets to beauty and grace," he replied and he saw the tension ease from her shoulders. He reached across the table to take her hand in his. "Hey, Mel, if you're hungry while waiting for your steak, you can have a bite of mine."

"Yours is also rare," she said, shaking her head.

"My soup?"

She shook her head again, causing her hair to flutter around her shoulders, and took a sip of wine. "Thanks, but no. I don't mind waiting."

She laced her fingers through his. "Besides, now I can do this."

He laid his fork down and just smiled at her, because it was so incredibly _good_ to just be with her, to have these moments. "Melinda, you're amazing, do you know that?"

"I may have been told it a time or too," she teased, but then her eyes clouded. She pulled her hand away to take another sip of wine, regardless of the fact that last time she'd just used her other hand. "Actually, Jim..."

He stiffened, wondering if she was about to reveal all to him. "Yeah, Mel?"

"I love the way you call me that," she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. "You're the first person to call me Mel. I love it, Jim."

"Thanks?" He murmured.

"I was saying, actually no one has told me that I'm' amazing before now," Melinda said, her throat working. "Not since my grandma died, at any rate. You see things in me that I don't see in myself, Jim. And we've only known each other six weeks and..."

"What?" He asked, suddenly realizing he was on fragile ground.

"I'm scared I'll do something to jeopardize all of this," she said. "And I'm scared that by voicing this fear I'll risk us even more."

"Don't be," he said, and took both of her hands in his. "You cannot get rid of me that easily."

"Yeah, but there are other issues, right?" Melinda said, again pulling her hands away. She tilted her head away from him as if fighting tears and he tried to see what was wrong. "Jim, I can't do this."

"What—"

"It's too hard," she forced. "There is something I should tell you, yes, I do have a secret but Jim, I can't. And that tells me this is wrong. I'm sorry."

She shoved her chair away from the table and walked so quickly to the door that Jim had barely pushed his own chair out before she left. "I'm sorry," he gasped to a server and placed a $50 bill in her hand before running outside after Melinda.

But she was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Melinda charged through the chilly night, wishing she'd thought to bring a sweater. This dress was strapless and her shoulders were definitely feeling it. She folded her arms around her and wondered what she was even doing. She'd left him, she'd left Jim and now it was over. Her life could finally get back to normal. She wouldn't have to worry about losing him...

...because he'd be gone.

It broke her heart, but the echoes of a Kelly Clarkson song shot through her mind: _"I want you to know, you couldn't have loved me better, but I want you to move on, so I'm already gone."_

Yes, yes, Jim had to move on. That was all there was to it. She was all wrong for him. She had too much baggage, emotional and...spiritual.

Speaking of...

"Hailey, I told you not to follow me," she said to the spirit tailing her.

"Melinda, I just need you to do one thing," the girl begged.

"I was on a date! It was private!" Melinda said. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to socialize and have fun when you're lurking there?"

"One thing and I'll be out of your way," Hailey insisted.

Melinda sighed. "What?"

* * *

When Jim reached her, after a few moments of panicked thinking, he realized that she was unlikely to have a goal in mind and went in the direction that he thought would appeal most to her.

And a few minutes later he saw her, standing on a bridge and madly waving her hands in the air like she did when she was having a passionate conversation with someone.

But no one was there.

"Mel?" He called out and she whirled around, her full skirt belling around her.

"Jim?" She asked, incredulous. She took a step backward and Jim lunged towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"You're freezing," he stated and shrugged out of his jacket. "Take this."

"Jim, what are you doing?"

"Listen to me, Melinda Gordon," he said, ignoring her struggles. "I love you."

She froze and for a moment, so did he. Neither had realized just how far they'd gone. He was saying iconic words and it was breaking her.

"I don't care what secrets you have from me, whatever thing in your past you feel compelled to hide," Jim said. "They say that relationships last on trust. Hear this, Melinda. I _trust_ you. I don't care if you ever tell me. Maybe it's not my business, I don't know. But it's all right. I love you. That's going to cover a hell of a lot, Melinda."

"It's not in my past," Melinda said, on the verge of crying.

"Mel..."

She lunged forward and kissed him, and he could feel and taste the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Still, she had never tasted better.

She pulled away. "Jim Clancy, I love you. And while I don't have the courage to tell you tonight, I will tell you someday."

"Take your time," Jim said and tucked her hand in his.

* * *

A/N: I strongly object to people who act as if you must tell your significant other _everything_. There are things that can/should be kept confidential, like other people's secrets.

Yeah, Melinda's secret doesn't fall into those categories but I just thought I'd put that out there.


	9. More

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

"I can't lose him," Melinda said, yanking another dress off in frustration. "He's just been so distant recently."

She stared in her bedroom mirror, looking at her bra and panties set. "Do you think my lingerie is sexy enough?"

"You're fine," Andrea scolded.

"Am I fine?" Melinda asked, examining the red bra.

"He'll love it," Andrea said. "Every guy I've ever met loved lace. Now just put this on and stop worrying."

She handed Melinda a gold sheath dress that Melinda promptly wiggled into. "Shit, this is tight. What size is this?"

"The correct one," Andrea said smugly, zipping it up. "Look at yourself, Melinda."

"Andrea!" Melinda gasped. "By 'self', do you mean breasts?"

"Hell yes," Andrea chuckled. "Hey, if you've got 'em..."

"Flaunt them," Melinda finished. "This dress is skin tight."

"You're going to his apartment for fancy takeout," Andrea said. "There are three ways for this evening to end, with sex, sex, or, if you chicken out, a pint of Ben & Jerry Cherry Garcia eaten with yours truly. Do you want that?" Andrea demanded. "And besides, I kind of wanted the ice cream all for myself so you'd better say no."

"No," Melinda moaned, worrying her lip.

"Okay then," Andrea agreed. "Then get over there to Jim's. Oh, and one more thing. If you really want to guarantee it, take off your panties."

"What, now?" Melinda shrieked, horrified.

"It's just a suggestion," Andrea said. "But with a dress like that, it will leave Jim wondering."

Melinda grabbed a trench coat as Andrea left the bedroom. "This sight is for Jim only," she muttered as she shoved her arms into the sleeves. "Not the taxi driver." She tied it, grabbed her purse and was at the bedroom door before she stopped.

"Ooh, Andrea, you're going to be the death of me," she mumbled, and, after some artful tugging, her panties were in the laundry basket and Melinda was on her merry way.

* * *

Jim made one last check of his bedroom. He'd cleaned all afternoon and still was only half satisfied. He sprayed some cologne over the bed and on himself, deciding that he looking quite nice in his black shirt and pants.

"And dinner is ready," he murmured, walking to the living room area where he'd set up his coffee table with dishes and cutlery. "I hope she doesn't mind the floor."

His doorbell buzzed and he almost ran to the door, forcing himself to check through the peephole so that the disappointment wouldn't show on his face if it wasn't Melinda.

But it was.

He yanked the door open—and still had to mask disappointment. She was wearing a coat!

 _Maybe sex wasn't on the menu tonight,_ he considered and smiled at her. It didn't matter. "Melinda, come on in."

"Yes, Jim," she said, hurrying through the door. "Um, my coat."

 _You're taking it off? Yes!_ Jim mentally cheered. Of course she wasn't keeping it on!

Almost smug, Jim reached to take it as she unbelted it and let it slide off of her.

He got the rearview first—and what a view. God, her ass. Like cherries or melons or...He knocked the fruit analogies from his mind, forcing himself to not grab her ass, and then a different realization hit him: No lines. Was she wearing a thong...? Nothing?

His heart was beating in his ears, drowning out sound. Food was suddenly the last thing on his mind but he quickly turned to hang her coat in the closet.

Then he saw the front of her dress.

Or maybe, the lack of it.

It plunged. It plunged but it was also wide and pushing up and her breasts were almost spilling out of it, it was that low.

 _Was that her areola?_ He thought dazedly, his eyes glues to her breasts.

"What's for dinner?" She asked cheerfully, turning and heading for the table. "It smells good."

Jim stumbled behind, watching her as she sat down and then sat across from her. "It's from a French place. I have no idea what any of these dishes are or what's in them but I do know that they're delicious."

"You sampled them?" Melinda asked, reaching to serve herself.

"Of course," he said, taking some meat. Was it chicken? He had no idea even as he chewed it, not tasting a single bite for the view in front of him.

She ate with grace and they had an in depth conversation about art. He wasn't sure how they'd reached the subject or how he was managing to pull opinions out of thin air but he bluffed through the conversation and kept his eyes on her the whole time.

The way her ponytail, and other parts, bounced when she laughed.

How she leaned forward with her chin on her hand, staring at him with soulful eyes as he made up some utter shit about Picasso and his opinion of modern art.

How her breasts tapered to her waist and how it killed him that he couldn't see beyond her waist.

How, at the end of the meal, Melinda stood up and her breasts almost jumped from her neckline at the motion.

He replayed the moment in his mind, wondering if he'd really just seen it.

They both froze. Melinda's face turned a slow red and Jim's mouth dropped open but that was that.

This settled it. She was his.

He dived forward and she met him halfway, and their mouths met and then were everywhere at once.

Jim found the zipper and the dress was shed and she wasn't wearing panties and she was jumping into his arms and he was casting her bra far, far away and his belt was undone and he carried her to the bedroom where she spread herself on the bed and he shed the rest of his clothes.

"I couldn't wait any longer," she told him. "I needed you. Jim, did you realize your eyes barely left my face the whole time? Even though I wore this dress so you'd look at my breasts?"

"I'm a gentleman," he moaned against her and conversation ceased.

When it was over, after one, two, three, four gos, Melinda lay exhausted next to him. The clock said past four.

Melinda's eyes were closed but the rapid rise and fall of her chest told him she couldn't possibly be sleeping.

 _I love her,_ a voice deep inside him said. _That's all there is to it. And it's not even the sex._

 _It really isn't. I loved her before this and if she'd left without shedding that dress I know that the feelings would still be just as strong._

She was meant for him, that was really the only explanation, that someone, somewhere up there, had created them as two halves. Pairs.

"You're mine," he whispered into her shoulder.

And he wanted more.


	10. Rain

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Not sure where this came from, but it came at least in part from Ch24 of GhostWhispererFangirl's fic, on here, called Their Little Family. What can I say, it inspired me.

Or maybe we're just having the same weather: rain, thunder, lightning...

Great, now you're in the mood. Just picture those things...and if you're having the same summer I am, that won't be hard.

And, one last thing, this brings us back to when Mel and Jim have only been dating for a few months and she is working at 'Mr. Jameson's' antique store. Where do they live? No freaking clue. Surely they weren't always in Grandview, but that part of their relationship escapes me.

* * *

The sky crackled with enough electricity to make Melinda's hair stand on end.

She was staying late at Mr. Jameson's shop finishing doing the inventory of a new load of furniture and books that had been acquired by the shop today.

When she'd seen the task ahead of her she'd immediately dialed up Jim to cancel.

"Jim, I'm sorry but there's a ton of work to do here and I think he'll give me a bonus, maybe even a percentage of the sales, if I get this all cataloged tonight," she explained after his carefree greeting. "Besides that, the weather is so nasty now and I don't think I want you driving in it."

Her boyfriend's laugh rumbled over the phone line, making her shiver. Yet another thing she was beginning to think she loved about Jim Clancy. "You're worried about me? We've gone farther than I thought."

"What do you mean?" She asked, tucking the phone between her head and shoulder to free her hands for cataloging.

"Nothing, Mel," he said. "What about you? How are you going to get back home to your apartment tonight?"

"Oh, I hadn't considered that," she mused. _Liar. You were planning on crashing in the shop and you know it._ "But I think I'll be here long enough to outlast the storm."

She could hear Jim's silence. "The forecast said until two or three...You're going to be up working that late?"

"Says the man who kept me up until four a.m. a week ago," Melinda scoffed, running her fingers over the list of items.

"God, I hope that wasn't work for you," Jim returned. "You're older than I thought."

"Jim!" She protested and again heard his laugh.

"That was a good night," he said and she heard the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, it was," she returned dreamily. "You know, Jim, it's kind of hot in here."

"Oh?"

"The AC is busted," she said. "But who knows, maybe that means certain articles of clothing will be removed."

'Don't you dare," Jim rumbled, his voice getting dangerously low.

"Oh? And here I'm already taking my sweater off," she said, her hands going to the buttons. "You hear that sliding sound? It's the buttons being unfastened. And the swoosh was it falling to the floor."

Her voice followed his, getting throatier as she spoke. "Hear that?" She whispered. "That pop was—"

On the other end of the phone, Jim cleared his throat. "I'm at work, Mel," he rasped. "Please no more phone sex."

"Fine," she sang. "I'll let you go before I remove my bra and work this thing topless."

She hung up before he could react, feeling smug, especially since she'd so ably distracted him from how late she'd be here and how she'd get home...or if she would at all.

"I can totally sleep here," she murmured, picking up her sweater and sliding back on. The AC wasn't busted.

But Melinda loved messing with Jim.

* * *

A few hours later, the rain outside had turned torrential. It was pounding like mad on the roof and Melinda had discovered two leaks that she placed antique vases underneath. "Let's see if you still work," she murmured. "That'd be a selling point."

Hands on her hips, she surveyed the back room she'd locked herself into on Mr. Jameson's urging. She was bored to tears, and she still had a few items to go.

For perhaps the first time in her life, antiques weren't enough and she was feeling a sudden urge to go out in the rain.

It was pitch black outside, she thought as she unlocked the door from the back room to the shop to peer out the front windows.

 _No one will see me,_ she convinced herself.

 _But you don't have any extra clothes here,_ a new voice in her head whispered but the first voice quickly countered it.

 _Take them off, then,_ _skinny dip in the rain. Come on, Melinda, live a little!_

She noticed that the first voice sounded like a mix between Jim and her Grandma, and the second, negative voice sounded like her mother.

Well. That settled that in a hurry.

She shut and locked the door to the front, and, taking a deep breath, yanked her sweater off again; not bothering with buttons this time, it just flew over her head. Her bra followed it and she shimmed out of her jeans down to her undies, but, after thoughtful consideration, removed those too.

She kept her shoes on and crept to the back door of the shop, creaking it open and slipping out into the alley.

The rain pounded hard, loud, masking all movement and noise from anywhere else. Melinda knew that she had total privacy and stepped out into the rain, squealing at the force and her hands went instinctively to cover her breasts.

"Total privacy," she scolded herself and threw her arms out wide, spinning in the rain and yelling.

The rain hit her skin, making it slick and smooth, and she welcomed its cleansing force. Rain was everywhere, she was so wet and now cold; goosebumps sprang up and her nipples were already pebbled.

"If this is going to mean pneumonia, maybe it wasn't such a great idea," she mumbled, just as lights from a car began to flood the alley with the warning that someone was turning into it.

Melinda shrieked and ducked back into the shop's doorway, praying harder than she ever had in her life that it wasn't Mr. Jameson or a rapist or anyone like that. She peeked to see who they were and what they were and where they were coming from and was promptly horrified when she realized it was parking in the alley. So not even someone turning around!

"Shit, shit, shit, I am so naked," she cursed, but then she managed one last peek through the rain to see if they were getting out. And...

"Wait, that's Jim's truck," she said, realization and relief dawning.

The engine cut off and she saw Jim, wearing a leather jacket.

"He came out in this to check on me? Instead of going home after work?" She wondered and dashed out into the rain to greet him, then changed direction and pretended she didn't see him, beginning to dance in the headlights to a tune that only she could hear, bouncing in the now slowing rain and hoping Jim saw her and freaked out.

The lights cut off and a door slammed and Jim was there, showering her with kisses and pressing her naked, wet body tight against his paramedic uniform. Their lips met and Melinda gave him all she was worth.

"You're late," she purred, jumping to wrap her legs around his waist when they broke.

"You don't need to say that twice," Jim groaned, feeling her slick skin under his hands that wouldn't stop moving over her back. "I've never seen anything so sexy, Mel. Were you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"That depends, did it work?" She asked, pressing her palm flat against his heart.

"Maybe, I mean, you giving me CPR while naked would also be pretty hot," he rasped and his head lowered and a moemnt later she felt his teeth and tongue on her nipple. "Jim."

"Be loud, no one can hear you," he said. "Make those screams you kept suppressing at my apartment."

"Oh, damn," she gasped, bucking against his touch.

"This is going to be fun," Jim said.

She concurred.

* * *

A/N: I realized, belatedly, that I've had almost no ghosts in this, (which was kind of the point; the moments Jim and Melinda had without being interrupted) but I realized I was also kind of ignoring Melinda's gift so I'll try to include a bit more about that. Laters!


	11. Forgiveness, Part 1

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Jim Clancy was a reasonable guy: he had an easygoing and forgiving manner that made explaining anything to him easier.

But how did one apologize to Jim Clancy?

Melinda Gordon considered the matter as she considered the engagement ring on her left ring finger. "I need to tell him," she thought to herself, and shoved her hand out of sight. "Come on, Melinda. Seriously, just buck up. You told him you could talk to the dead and he didn't even bat an eye."

She smiled at herself in the mirror, trying to bolster her confidence. "And it's not even that big a deal. At least, Jim won't think it is."

But her reflection seemed to answer for her. "That's what you _hope_ , Melinda. Who knows, your wedding day might not come after all."

"No, you shut up," she said to her reflection. "Jim is a kind and forgiving man. He'll know it was a mistake."

Still, she was anything but confident as she finished dressing in a jean skirt (a bit shorter than usual to kickstart the forgiving process), a blue sweater (the autumn weather was a bit chilly) and a bright yellow scarf (she wanted to look bright for him.) She was looking at her boot selection and waffling between knee highs and ankle hiking style boots that wouldn't actually hold up on a mountain.

She picked the ankle boots and pulled them on, lacing them tight and grabbing her bag as she headed for the door.

It was two weeks to their wedding. She'd be damned if her schedule rearranged itself again.

Jim would forgive her. He had to.

* * *

Melinda Gordon was the most wonderful woman in the world, Jim reflected as he cleaned soup off of his paramedic uniform.

"Do you need more napkins?" The waitress asked, ducking by his table again.

"No, I'm good," he answered, flushing a bit. He'd been thinking about Melinda, about last night and an interesting (to say the least) experience he'd had involving Melinda and a button down sweater.

And a bed, come to think of it.

And legs. Smooth, freshly shaved legs that wrapped around his waist and made him feel like he was about to burst from the joy in his life.

He didn't think it could get that good. He didn't think life could be this amazing and fulfilling, but every day with Melinda brought his life closer to perfect.

And now they were getting married. Two weeks! Just two weeks and she'd be his forever and ever, to wake up to and be woken up by.

His mind sped off in another direction as he reflected on how much he loved being awoken by her. Sometimes it was accidental, sometimes she was leaving and collecting her clothes and he'd just watch her dress and pretend to still be asleep.

Sometimes he'd wake to feel her lips on him, _down there,_ and he'd jerk to attention, finding himself already hard in her mouth.

Sometimes her lips brushed over his, her hands over his chest.

Sometimes she'd kick him while sleeping, and wake him with sudden pain.

But however it happened, he always praised the powers that be (God? Who knew.) that Melinda was in his life...and his bed.

Speaking of.

He fished his phone from his pocket and dialed her number. "Jim?"

"Hey, Melinda, I'm just finishing my soup," he said. "You said not to wait so I got an appetizer."

"Good," she said, and he heard her breath. "I'll be there in two minutes. And Jim, I have something to tell you."

"Should I be worried?" He joked, and heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, Jim, I don't know," she replied and suddenly he could her the tears in her voice.

"Oh my god, Melinda, what's happened?" He asked, suddenly tense.

"I'm afraid that you won't forgive me," she said. "I'll be there soon, Jim."

With that the line went dead. Jim stared with disbelief at the phone in his hand, immediately going out of his mind again with thoughts of Melinda. But this time, they weren't pleasant.

What on earth could have happened that Melinda thought he wouldn't forgive her? Because if she was worried about that, it meant she was sorry. And there was nothing Melinda could do to make him not forgive her, if she was sorry for it.

And even if she wasn't sorry, Jim felt a sneaky inkling that he'd forgive her anyway. He loved her.

She hadn't cheated on him, had she? There had been that guy one time, who'd hit on her pretty hard. And he was good looking.

But, Jim realized, even if she had...

It would kill him, but he'd forgive her. It was probably an accident, living in the moment, something like that.

He realized he was getting ahead of himself. Of course she hadn't cheated on him!

But had she crashed his car? Or her car?

He groaned as he realized that he should just stop speculating. She'd tell him what she'd done and he'd forgive her. It was as simple as that.

If only she'd get there.

* * *

A/N: A nice cliffhanger for you guys. Don't worry, I'll have part II up this afternoon.


	12. Forgiveness, Part 2

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Melinda hurried through the autumn air, her legs tickled by passing leaves.

Above her the leaves on the trees were turning red and brown and gold, and though she usually stopped to admire them, today she just couldn't.

She was worried and scared and just wanted to be with her fiance, but she was afraid that after she told him what she needed to tell him, he wouldn't be her fiance any longer.

And that was too terrible a prospect to dwell on for long.

She opened the door to the cafe Jim waited at, and winced at the bell which announced her presence.

Jim was waiting there, staring into the distance and she could almost see his brain whirring to figure out what she'd done.

* * *

And he was jumping up, standing when he saw her there, pulling her chair out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Mel?" He asked, his eyes dark with worry as he moved to sit down across from her again.

"I don't know, Jim," she said.

"Would you like anything to drink?" The waitress asked, coming over. "And are you ready to order now that your party is complete, sir?"

"Tea," Melinda said. "Do you have any hot tea?"

"No, but we have iced tea," the waitress answered. "Sweetened and unsweetened."

"I'll take the unsweetened," Melinda said. "And could I start with a side salad?"

"Of course," the waitress said.

"I'll just wait to order my entree," Jim told the young girl and she smiled and ducked away.

Jim returned his attention to Melinda. "What's up, Mel?"

"I did something," she moaned, not meeting his gaze. "You're never going to forgive me."

He reached to take her hand, hating how agonized her eyes looked. "Mel, I hate that I'm making you feel this way. Just spit it out."

"Do you promise you won't storm out of here in disgust?" Melinda asked him.

Her tea was set in front of her. "Um, thank you," she told the waitress.

"I promise," Jim vowed, squeezing her hand.

"Okay, here goes," Melinda said. "I know I said I wouldn't but he kept calling and wouldn't give up."

 _Shit. She did cheat on me._

"It's okay," he said. "I know you didn't mean to. And it does hurt, I have to admit that but I don't care, Mel. I want you anyway."

"Hear me out," Melinda said. "Just don't speak. I...invited your uncle Darius to the wedding. Even though everyone warned me how he does the thing with the cake and he's the most inappropriate pervert you'll ever meet, he just wouldn't stop calling and I felt so bad for him and your mom is going to be so angry with you."

Jim blinked as he looked at her.

"Wait," Melinda said. "What were you even forgiving me for?"

"I thought you cheated on me or something," Jim said in a dazed voice . "You were in such a panic. My god, Melinda. Just great uncle Darius? That doesn't even matter to me."

"What do you mean?" Melinda asked. "Does our wedding mean so little..." Her voice trailed off as tears filled her eyes.

Jim realized that he'd done a horrible thing and was about to speak when Melinda started to laugh.

"I was being overdramatic, wasn't I?" She asked. "No wonder you thought it was something like that."

"I didn't mean it like that," Jim said. "I didn't mean that I don't care about our wedding, and of course I'd prefer it if he didn't come, but great uncle Darius does not have the power to ruin our wedding. Nothing does, short of you running out on me."

"Do you really mean that?" Melinda said. "If I'd cheated on you, during our engagement, you'd have forgiven me? Because I'm not sure I'd have forgiven you."

Jim was silent for a moment, considering.

Melinda's salad arrived and the waitress again asked if they were ready to order.

"I'd like the fried catfish," Jim ordered, handing her the menu. "With the sweet potato fries."

"You?"

"Um, the vegetable panini," Melinda said.

The waitress departed and Melinda stabbed a piece of lettuce. "Jim?" She ventured.

"It's tough to say," Jim said. "Especially after what you said about not forgiving me. I don't know, Mel. If it wasn't intentional, if it just happened, I'd have to forgive you. I love you. I trust you. If you felt you needed to seek comfort elsewhere, I'd have to forgive you for not being there myself. And maybe this makes me sound like a loser who couldn't get another girl, but Mel, I don't want another girl. I want you, and if you still wanted me and had made some stupid mistake, why wouldn't I still love you? Still want you?"

Melinda stared at him. "But you're so possessive, all the time."

"I don't want an open marriage by any means," Jim said. "I'm not giving you permission, mind you." He reached over to brush his hand over her bare thigh and they both shivered.

He scooted his chair closer, so that he could place his hand on her leg and keep it there without it being uncomfortable. "But I love you."

"I guess I'd have to forgive you after a speech like that," Melinda said. "But who are we kidding? I'd never cheat on you, Jim. Even if I wasn't head over heels in love with you, those marriage vows are going to mean something to me."

"They will to me, too," Jim promised. "I will never cheat on you, either. Pinky swear."

She laughed at his choice of words. "Pinky swear. But actually, I know of some more interesting body parts to swear on."

"Really?" Jim asked, his gaze going to her chest out of habit.

Melinda reached to swipe a drop of soup from the corner of his lip. "I do. And I think we should make these promises again, later tonight."

"It'll have to much later," Jim said. "I've got the late shift."

"Well, it so happens that I have the key to your apartment," Melinda answered. "And you might just have a surprise when you get home."

Jim felt his mouth moving to a smile, a huge smile that he couldn't control. He leaned over to kiss Melinda, the other patrons of the cafe slipping from his mind. "I'm holding you to that," he promised, pressing another kiss to her cheek next to her ear.

Her own smile matched his. "Again, I'm sorry," she whispered.

"And I forgive you," he countered.

She sighed into a bite of lettuce, her eyes sparkling now. "Forgiveness is...crunchy."

"It better not be," Jim warned. "If you're talking about later, it better be silky smooth and not wearing clothes."

"I'll make a note," she said.


	13. Refusal?

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Taken straight from 2x20: The Collector, when Melinda says:

* * *

"I'm going to go back to that funeral home tomorrow and see if they at least have a guest book that I can look at. I'm never going to sleep tonight," Melinda sighed and brushed past Jim.

Jim stared at her for a moment, watching her fold laundry with a troubled but concentrating look on her face.

"Do you realize what you just said?" He asked, moving up to brush his hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, that I'm going back," she returned, picking up a lacy pink nightgown and folding it quickly.

Jim felt his eyebrow raise. "No, the second part, about not sleeping."

"Well, do you expect me to?" She asked.

So Melinda was really out of it. He stepped behind her and slid an arm around her waist, tucking his chin into her neck. "Can I suggest other activities, then?"

"I don't think so," Melinda said. "I'm not in the mood for a movie."

Jim jerked back to stare at her. "Melinda, are you feeling alright?"

"Sure, I'm feeling fine," she said, and it was only then he heard the twinkle in her voice.

"Okay, well, I'll just head upstairs," Jim said, thinking that two could play at this game. "Coming?"

"Mm, I don't know," Melinda said and Jim wondered if he'd misheard the mischief in her voice.

"Okay, I'm going," he said and Melinda waved her hand at him.

He went, through the living room and to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

His shirt was thrown over his head and his pants followed suit, being cast onto the floor. He got into the bed in a huff, wondering if he was so undesirable now that she possibly had a co-ghost whisperer.

Arms crossed beneath his head, he stared at the ceiling and wondered what his wife was doing.

But it didn't matter. She wanted to concentrate, so he'd let her.

Even if that meant sleeping alone.

He flipped over onto his side, and heard the door creak open behind him, but he didn't turn around. Quiet footsteps came in and Jim reflected that she was probably just putting the laundry away and then going back downstairs.

Fine. That was totally fine.

It was.

He heard her footsteps behind him, like he thought, going to his closet. A few hangers rattled and then all was silent. Jim resisted the urge to look.

Then he heard a swish. He wasn't sure how he knew but something told him that an item of clothing had just been removed.

 _Wait, by my closet...?_

He couldn't resist any longer and rolled over to find Melinda just looking at him, dressed in a lacy pink nightgown and quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, hey," he said, pretending to ignore the fact that the nightgown barely reached her thighs and was so completely lace it was barely there. "Coming to sleep after all?"

"Sleep?" Melinda said, strolling forward and Jim gulped. She reached with one hand and just barely pushed his shoulder but he rolled onto his back and his heartbeat sped up as she climbed onto the bed and then climbed onto him, straddling him.

He could feel her silky smooth thighs on his bare stomach and her ass, and her other parts that were now touching him. She leaned forward and her hair slid down to be a curtain for their faces.

He looked at her face, then down where her breasts were almost falling out.

"I'm actually feeling kind of sleepy myself," Jim said, not letting go of it yet. "So I'll just..."

He broke off when Melinda huffed, pressed her lips to his and immediately started an all out assault. Her hands were everywhere and her nightgown was soon nowhere to be found and he started to flip them, so that he could be on top and in charge, but she stopped him.

"Not tonight," she said. "It's my turn."

* * *

Jim lay exhausted after, watching as Melinda slipped from the bed and to the bathroom. She was probably showering. She liked to after making love.

Usually he'd join her, but now he was too tired, and instead brought images back from the moments preceding this...her bouncing breasts as she rode him, her lips on his nipples, the look on her face as she came...

Damn.

She returned in a few minutes, now wearing a long navy nightgown, that was silky but untouchable. She got into bed and leaned over to press a kiss to his mouth.

"Sorry about earlier, I was feeling naughty," she said. "And thanks for this."

"Any time," he returned, and she smiled, moving to rest her head on his chest, her hand resting on his shoulder and he reached up to take it in his.

And then he slept, and Melinda lay awake, contemplating the facts and just being grateful for him. For all of these nights.


	14. What's Love?

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

"Hey Jim?" Melinda asked, poking her head into the kitchen where he stood stirring a pot of chili. They were getting ready for a neighborhood potluck, and Melinda was currently in one of his long dress shirts, fully made up face and hair, and nothing else.

Jim rather liked the look.

"Yeah, Mel?"

"I know it's your day off tomorrow," she continued. "But I promised Rose that I'd watch Ginnifer tomorrow."

"Rose..."

"She's two doors down," Melinda said. "She just moved in but I already knew each other from the store and that's why she's asking me, since she doesn't really know anyone else on the street yet."

"Oh, she's the redhead?" Jim asked, adding some more spice as he watched his wife walk forward and perch on one of the stool in front of him, one leg underneath her and one extended.

"Yeah, with the cute little cocker spaniel and the even cuter daughter," Melinda said. "Maybe you've seen her, she's got black hair cut into this adorable bob with bangs and the hugest, most serious eyes you've ever seen."

"She sounds like a keeper," Jim said. "Of course I don't mind."

Melinda's eyes sparkled. "Well, the real question was...do you want to do it with me?"

Jim paused. "I mean, I like kids, but that's a different kind of day off."

Melinda idly swung her leg into the air, showing off her flexibility and the tan, freshly shaved bare skin.

Jim watched her, raising his eyebrow.

"You love kids," Melinda purred, rubbing a hand down her leg.

"Yeah, but they're a lot of work when you could be chilling out with a beer," Jim said.

Melinda huffed and her leg went down again. "Are you serious?"

"No, of course I'm not serious" Jim said, a smile spreading over his face. "I'd love to."

Melinda squealed, jumped up and ran to hug him from behind. He could smell her perfume and feel her arms tight around him. Her hands met and locked.

"I love you," she said against his back.

"What are you wearing tonight?" He asked, placing one hand over hers and using the other to stir.

"I'll be keeping it casual," Melinda said. "In case there are activities; it wasn't clear. Shorts, sandals..."

"And nothing on top? I'm not sure I like that idea," Jim said.

"Really? _You_ don't like the idea of me topless?" Melinda asked, her voice doubtful.

"Well, yeah, there'll be other people there," he said and she squeezed him tighter.

"I don't know, a sleeveless blouse?" She said. "And a jacket if it gets cold."

"If it gets cold, you can have mine," Jim offered.

"But then you would be cold," she said. "I never understood men offering that."

"We're warm enough just looking at our girls wearing our clothes," Jim offered. "At least, I know I am."

"Oh, so that's how it works?" Melinda said. "Okay, you can bring the jacket, Mr. Fireman."

"Good one," he joked, lightly slapping her rear as she escaped, and she shot him a mock glare over her shoulder.

"You will pay for that later, Mister," she scolded, but the twinkle in her eyes promised it'd be a pleasant forfeit.

* * *

After a pleasant night at the potluck, and a steaming afterwards involving a sleeveless blouse...or lack of one.

The next morning found Melinda wearing a mockneck, despite the weather, since Jim had been rather...enthusiastic the night before.

He'd watched her questioningly as she'd dressed. "What's with the sweater? It's going to be in the 70s."

She then showed him the lovebite clear on her neck and he flushed. "I don't even remember doing that," he murmured, walking over to her and slipping his arms around her. "Sorry, babe."

"It's okay," she said, leaning into him. "I do."

"You do what?" He asked, nuzzling her neck and contemplating giving her another mark; she was going to wear the mockneck anyway.

"I remember it," she whispered and picked up his hand to press against her heart. "My heart beat like it is right now."

There were a few moments of silence as Jim kissed her, a deep, tender kiss that was meant to convey how very much he adored her.

* * *

They had to hurry to Rose and Ginnifer's house and made it there just as Rose was leaving. "I'm going out with my new boyfriend, Henry," Rose hurriedly explained. "I don't think Ginnifer likes him very much so she's being a little sullen right now."

"We'll be okay," Melinda said. "This is my husband, Jim, who I dragged along for company."

"Good to meet you," Rose said, tying a scarf around her neck. "Ginny, I love you. Bye."

In the next room, Ginnifer didn't return her mother's farewell.

Melinda wandered up to her. "You okay, Ginnifer?"

"What is love?" Ginnifer asked, looking like she'd been crying.

Melinda had to pause. Jim, next to her, shrugged. "This is your job," he shrugged.

"I don't know how to explain it," Melinda said. "I don't think anyone can do it perfectly. But it's...patient and kind. When you love someone, really love someone, you want what is best for them, even if that takes them away from you."

"So Mommy loved me when she cried on my first day of school but still let me go?" Ginnifer asked.

"Yeah, that's a very good way to put it," Melinda exclaimed. "There are different kinds of love, though. There's the love that every person should give to one another: it shows in kind acts and nice words." She grinned at Ginnifer. "There's a kind of love between babysitter and babysat, where the babysitter tries to make sure that you have the best time possible."

"What about between mommy and her new boyfriend?" Ginnifer asked.

"That's a romantic kind of love," Melinda answered. "Some would say it's the realest kind of love, but I don't think that's true. There are all kinds of love and the strength just depends on the person. There's the love between mommy and daughter too, of course. There's love all over. Ginnifer."

Ginnifer considered this. "Do teachers love their students?"

"Yeah," Melinda said. "They should."

"I love my teacher," Ginnifer said. "But I'm not sure I love my mommy's new boyfriend. Do you think she does?"

"I don't know," Melinda said. "But it's okay to take time before you're sure if you really love someone."

"How do you know when it's the couple kind of love?" Ginnifer asked.

"I'd forgotten how many questions kids can ask," Melinda chuckled. "I guess, it's when you're excited to see someone. When you want them to kiss you. When the sight of their face brightens your day, when you worry about them when they're not there. If you think about them often. If you wonder what will make them happy." She shrugged. "If they love you back."

"Do you two have that?" Ginnifer asked, tilting her head as she looked up at them.

"Yeah, we do," Melinda answered.

"All of it? Jim's face brightens your day?"

"Yes, it does," Melinda said.

"I think I'm in love with my classmate then," Ginnifer said.

"What's his name?" Melinda asked.

"Holly. She's a girl," Ginnifer said.

"Oh!" Melinda said. "Wow. That's a conversation for another day. But also, Ginnifer, you can have those feelings without it being romantic love."

"Oh," Ginnifer said. "I don't know then."

"You've got a long time to figure it out," Melinda said. "Don't worry."

Ginnifer smiled up at Melinda. "Can we go to the park now?"

"Of course," Melinda said.

Ginnifer sighed, happy. "Jim?"

"Yeah?" He asked.

"What do you think romantic love is?"

"When what you want most in the world is to be with the other person," he said simply. "That's how I see it. When you'd do anything, forgive anything, just to be with them."

Melinda took Ginnifer's hand. "Come on, let's cross the street."

Jim's arm slipped around Melinda's waist as they walked, in a neat little line.

"Does love last forever?" Ginnifer asked, her voice small.

"Sometimes," Melinda said. "Some people would say that, if you stop loving someone, it wasn't actually love, but I think any love is real. I think any love was worth it, no matter the heartbreak that could follow."

"Heartbreak?" Ginnifer asked.

"When someone hurts you, and your heart feels like it will break," Melinda asked.

"Oh," Ginnifer said. "I've felt like that. When Tyler yelled at me."

"Who's Tyler?"

"A classmate I used to love," Ginnifer sighed. "But then he got mean."

"Some people do that," Melinda said. "I knew a guy like that. I thought he loved me and he didn't, not really. He got mean so I left him. You made a good choice, Ginnifer."

"And then you met Jim and would never leave him," Ginnifer finished. "Happily ever after."

"Yeah," Melinda said. "Exactly."

"I want that to happen to my mommy," Ginnifer said. "My daddy doesn't like my mommy, he only likes me. So I hope Henry loves her."

"Good," Melinda said.

* * *

A/N: Big thanks to GhostWhispererFangirl for the prompt...it really made me examine what I personally believe love to be, though what I presented here is what I thought Melinda would say and not necessarily my personal views.


	15. Lazy

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Hee hee, this happened to me this morning. No matter how many times I tried to get up, my bed had turned into a monster that pulled me back every time...I must have had two dreams where I got out of bed, got dressed and went down to have breakfast and then I'd jerk, and I'd still be in bed. Ah, cooler fall days.

It does it every time.

* * *

Melinda drifted awake and looked at the clock, seeing but not really registering the numbers there. _7:54._ She shrugged and rolled over in bed. _I can sleep a bit longer...The store doesn't have to be opened today so I can go in late._

She flung an arm out in sleep and whacked Jim's back. _Jim's here? Why is Jim here?_

Her brain worked sluggishly to compute the problem as she moved towards him. _Why weren't we spooning if Jim's here_? Was the premium thought in her mind as she tucked herself into him, or tried to. The way he was lying didn't conduce to that, so she rolled away in frustration and found her old cozy spot, rolling onto the side facing away from him and pulling the blanket up.

 _This is so warm, and soft..._

 _Oh, right. Drake took his shift today so that Jim could take Drake's shift tomorrow. That makes sense._

The mystery solved, Melinda felt her eyes drooping and then falling closed.

 _Crap. Delia is expecting me. We were going to go over inventory._

In a trancelike state, Melinda found herself climbing from the bed and getting dressed in yesterday's clothes. Her mind refused to explain why this was, until a hand landed on her back and Melinda jerked awake to find herself back in bed.

 _Ugh, I hate it when that happens._

She rolled over again, trying to stay awake this time. _8:25._ Whoo. A lot of time had passed.

Jim's hand was now on her back, but he was as fast asleep as she'd been a few moments ago so she let him lie.

 _Just a few more minutes. Just until 8:30._ She squinted to keep her eyes on the clock, but it was suddenly moving slower than she was. She closed her eyes for, it had to be, an _hour_ and when she opened them again it was only 8:26.

 _In which case_ , she thought, _I can roll over and doze a bit more._

She closed her eyes for a second, really. The next thing Jim was waking her up. "Mel, aren't you going to the store?"

"Maybe not today," she said, mumbling the words into her pillow.

"Delia called. She's waiting for you." Jim's voice was faraway.

Melinda jerked to attention. "Okay, I'll get up..."

No. No. That had been a dream too. Jim lay in bed beside her, looking even more settled in bed than she was. And with none of the battle.

Melinda looked at the clock and cursed. 8:58.

And yet. Like her subconscious had just told Jim...why get up?

Her eyes drifted close and then the phone rang.

Melinda grabbed for it with eyes closed, succeeding in knocking it off of the bedside table and nothing else.

She groaned and moved to grab it, hitting the talk button before the ringing woke up Jim.

"Yeah?"

"Melinda? I thought you were coming down here today."

Delia's voice flooded the line.

Melinda pinched herself to make sure that this wasn't another dream and then sat up in bed. "Um. Yes. I am. I think. Not yet, Delia. Here, how about you go out for breakfast? Take Ned? I'm going to be super late so you don't have to wait for me."

"Did something happen? Why are you going to be late?" Concern colored Delia's voice.

"No, nothing happened, I'm just moving slowly today," Melinda yawned. "My bed has become irresistible and sleep keeps...claiming me." She yawned again and lay back down in bed, taking the phone with her.

Delia's voice crackled over the line and she forced herself to tune into what Delia was saying. "We had breakfast but I suppose we do know to shoe shop for Ned before school starts. Okay, Melinda, you convinced me. I'm taking the morning off."

"Great, bye," Melinda mumbled, hit the off button and the phone clattered to the floor.

She put her hands behind her head and considered Jim beside her. "I guess I'll let you sleep, babe."

The clock said 9:01.

Melinda rolled onto her stomach and was out like a light.

* * *

When she woke up the next, the bed beside her was empty and cold. She immediately sat up in alarm, searching the room for Jim.

The clock said 9:58.

Holy crap, she'd actually slept that long? She couldn't remember ever doing this unintentionally.

She jumped out of bed and grabbed her orange bathrobe, tying it around her and then she slowed.

"Why am I hurrying?"

The bed suddenly called to her again like a siren. She flopped onto it, spreading her arms. "I'm not going to fall asleep again, I'm just going to lie here," she commanded.

The smell of french toast was floating into the room. Melinda's eyes drifted shut just as the door squeaked open and she consequently cracked one eye open.

Jim was standing in the doorway, just looking at her with amusement, and something else, on his face. There was breakfast tray in his hands that made Melinda want to sit up but she felt glued to the bed.

"Breakfast?" Jim asked, looking impossibly awake and clean and showered and dressed. Wow, how'd he do it?

"Um." Melinda said, still just looking at him. "Help me up?"

Jim shook his head, laughing, and placed the tray on a chair.

"Fine, I'll help you," he said, walking over to the bed and grabbing her hands. "Come on, Mel, up you come."

His smug manner annoyed her so she didn't cooperate, putting as much resistance into the pull as possible. Jim merely raised an eyebrow, pulled harder and she was up, her head against his stomach.

She leaned against him. "I'm tired."

"I know, babe. Want some french toast?"

"Eat it yourself," she said and tried to flop back down to her bed but Jim merely chuckled and hooked his arms under her shoulders, pulling her up and then swinging her into his arms.

She looked at him, and then at the bed.

"Jim, I have to say this," she said, as he maneuvered himself to the tray and picked it up, giving it to her to hold as he carried them both downstairs. "Today, for the first time since I've met you, you do not measure up."

"To what?" Jim chuckled.

"The bed," she crooned and relaxed into his shoulder. "I want to sleep."

"No, you don't," he corrected. "You want to have breakfast."

"I really don't, babe," she said. "Put me down and I will go back up to bed."

"It's french toast," he said. "And then you can shower and get dressed and I'll walk you to the store."

"I don't want to go to the store," Melinda grumbled.

"Yeah, you kind of have to," Jim said.

"But you have a day off too," she said. "We could have stayed in bed all day. Together."

"We weren't together," Jim laughed. "We were both out cold and it would not have been the same thing at all, Mel."

"So?"

"I'm your husband, not the bed," Jim said. "And it's time to act like that."

"Are you jealous?" Melinda asked, squinting at him as he reached the kitchen and placed the tray on the table.

"No, but I think I'll make you sleep on the guest bed tonight," Jim said.

"But I won't," Melinda said. "Sleep, that is."

"Exactly," Jim agreed, placing her in a chair.

Melinda looked up at him. "Fine. I'll live this day after all."

"That's my girl," Jim said.


	16. First

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: This is a request from **LovelySarah16**. I hope you like it, and if you have any other requests, you know where to find me!

* * *

It was after their fifth date. They'd gone out to eat, finding a tiny corner café and just sat there, enjoying each other's company. There was no one else there, so Jim and Melinda were free to sit there as long as they wanted, talking and laughing and…falling in love.

Melinda felt Jim's eyes on her keenly as he walked her back to her apartment in the city. New York was unexpectedly sultry for this time of year, she could feel a droplet of sweat rolling down her back. "I hope my A/C is still working when we get back," she said casually. "Because I'm melting out here."

She felt Jim's eyes sweep over her outfit again: a loose black mini dress, which was flapping around her legs as they walked. It was a halter neck, so it was mostly backless and she'd put her hair up in a ponytail.

Jim loved seeing her in ponytails, something he'd let slip on one of their first dates. So she'd worn her hair in a ponytail on purpose tonight, because she wanted to tempt him.

Because she wanted to find out what making love with Jim Clancy would be like and she was too shy to make the first move. He did seem fairly traditional, at least in some things, and she was worried he was the type of person to wait. He probably wouldn't wait until marriage (as if Melinda could survive that long without 'getting some' from Jim Clancy) but she wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to wait until they'd really been dating for a while.

Six months. She guessed that he'd be the type of person to wait for the six month mark before having sex.

Looking back, she counted on her fingers.

It hadn't even been six weeks.

She reached over to take his hand, at least making this first move. The initial touch seemed to surprise him; his gaze shot to her face as if to confirm that this was what she wanted, that she wasn't just feeling pressured to be close to him.

Getting his confirmation, he tugged her hand so that she was walking a little closer to him, winding his fingers through hers so they were firmly entwined,

Melinda felt something jump in her at the motion, and it wasn't just her libido. She felt safe with Jim, and that small motion ignited something even more than a desire for sex inside of her.

Although it significantly increased that, too.

She let her fingers play on his wrist, trying to make him react.

His hand merely tightened on hers as they walked, in complete silence now.

Melinda was too afraid she'd blurt our her sexual fantasies to speak and Jim was following this silence.

She took a peek at him, feeling fire course through her veins as she did so. His hair was perfect, just falling in his face a bit from the sweat.

They were approaching her apartment building now, and Melinda let them in without letting go of his hand.

The silence between them now seemed charged. Melinda kept sneaking glances at Jim and she could feel his eyes on her when she wasn't looking.

In the elevator up, she cleared her throat and Jim turned to her immediately, seeming to sigh in frustration when she didn't say anything.

They were both waiting for the other to speak, Melinda realized.

"Um, Andrea went to see a double feature tonight," she said, her voice sounding unexpectedly small in the elevator. "You want to come in?"

She heard a sharp intake of breath. "Mel…this is something I have to be clear about and if you say no, that's totally fine."

"What?" She asked.

"If I come in with you now, I don't think I'll be able to leave," Jim said, not looking at her. His cheeks were reddened.

Melinda's heart skipped a beat. "Who says I want you to?" She asked.

"I just…I mean, I want to make love to you," Jim said. "All night, that's all I've been able to think about."

Her heart seemed to skip again, or maybe stop entirely. It was pounding in her ears, making it hard to hear anything.

"I think I spent the whole evening wanting the same thing," she finally breathed, turning to face him.

His arms were looping around her waist when the elevator dinged, announcing they were at her floor.

Melinda tightened her hold on his hand as she led him to her apartment, jamming the key in with impatience and only making it harder to open. Her hand was shaking but she didn't care.

The instant they were inside, Jim pinned her against the door and she threw her arms around his neck. His lips came to meet hers, slowly, nervously, until they made contact.

And then it was like nothing Melinda had ever felt before. His lips set a fire in her, a yearning deep in her gut.

She returned the kiss with alacrity, letting her hands claw at his shirt. She'd never quite understood that before in romantic movies but now she did. All she wanted was to see him naked.

His hands felt even larger than usual as they moved up and down her torso in appreciation. One second they were on her back, and the next they were cupping her ass, and the next they were on her breasts, lifting them as if to test their weight.

Melinda had never quite gotten used to her curvaceous body but the sounds Jim was making made her suddenly feel completely content with how she looked.

She pulled away from him, and their kiss had been so passionate there was a sucking sound as she did.

"Take your damn shirt off," she gasped as Jim's lips fell to her neck, sucking the skin there, and then moving lower. She felt his tongue on the top of her breast and gave up trying to convince him, her hands going to his waist and tugging his shirt out from his pants herself. Her hands felt his rock hard stomach as she did so, and she couldn't resist flattening her hands on it before continuing in her quest to get his shirt off. Now.

It came up and up, and her fingers scraped by his nipple and the sound he made when she made contact was enough to make him break away from her breasts and let her take the shirt off entirely.

And then she just looked at him, shirtless and proud. His muscled stomach, chest and arms spoke to training and responsibility, but not an over obsession with exercise.

Jim watched her, watching him, and she could see the fall and rise of his chest quicken.

She moved closer and let her hands rest on his chest, tilting her head back to look at him. "I want this," she said, and let her lips close over his nipple.

His moan rocked her and she let him scoop her up into his arms, taking her straight to her bedroom where he deposited her on the bed. "It's your turn now," he said, his breath coming only in pants. His eyes were almost black with lust and she shivered to see how he looked at her.

She lazily let her hands fall to the hem of her dress; it was loose and went on over the head, with no zipper. She started to bring it up, feeling Jim's eyes on every inch of skin that was revealed.

And then she tossed it over her head and sat there, in a strapless black bra and matching panties.

Neither of them were virgins, but that night they to places they'd never truly been, to sights they'd never seen.

* * *

"What was it like for you?" Melinda asked, years and years later.

"What was what like?" Jim asked, his arms around her nude body. It was moments after making love, and they were both just resting now.

"What was our first time like?" Melinda asked. "I remember it clearly, Jim. I spent the whole evening just wanting to rip your clothes off but I was afraid you'd think I was too forward. That girls shouldn't initiate sex."

She felt the rumble of laughter in Jim's chest and let a smile curve her lips.

"I think the only I could focus on was how much I wanted to make love to you," Jim said. "I wanted to see you at your most vulnerable moments and I wanted you to see me at mine."

He moved a bit, propping himself up on one arm. "But you know, Mel, it never changed for me."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"It's like...for me, every time is our first time," Jim said. "I feel the same feelings, touch the same emotions in you. It never changed."

She shifted a bit. "You mean that?"

"I do," he said. "I do mean that. I love you, Mel. It's a love that never faded. It always just got stronger until it almost overwhelmed me."

Melinda shook her head. "I'll never understand what I did to deserve you," she said. "I'll never understand how I managed to end up with the most wonderful man on earth."

"I think that's my line," Jim said. "Oh, but change it to 'woman'."

* * *

A/N: I like the idea of Melinda wanting it more (or for her to thinking that at least.) I didn't want it to just be Jim. So that's why all of it is from Mel's perspective.


	17. Mission, Part 1

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: This brings us to a total of two chapters centered around sleep. Following right after each other too. I wonder if that's a sign...? It totally is. I'm so sleep deprived lately. I wake up tired and then just stay tired.

* * *

Melinda saw Delia out the door and locked it behind her, flipping the sign to Closed. She had a few more hours of billing to do, and Jim was picking her up at 11 to take her home.

She headed into the back room, sat down in front of her computer and started going through invoices.

It was a long, tiring job and one that Melinda usually reserved for Friday mornings, and not Thursday nights, but Jim had a day off tomorrow so she was doing it now.

Her fingers moved over the keyboard, taking notes and changing little things on the invoices to better reflect what had been purchased.

As the clock moved to 8:30, Melinda felt her head begin to droop. A huge yawn broke through her sleepiness, both waking her up and making it worse than ever.

Coffee would help, but she was suddenly too tired to get up from her seat.

Her head drooped again, and then she pushed the laptop aside and let her head drop into her arms. Just a minute...

 _She was moving through a forest. It was bright, and sunny. The trees around her seemed to be bursting with birdsong. There was the sound of water running nearby._

 _And then there was a scream. Melinda whirled around, searching for the person who'd made the sound, and a terrible scene met her eyes. A woman, being attacked by two men._

 _It was an isolated place. Melinda somehow knew that no help would come to this woman, even as she moved towards them and yelled at them to stop._

 _Of course, no one heard her._

 _As Melinda watched the act take place, she wanted to turn away but something, the look in the woman's eyes, maybe, kept her there, forced her to remember that this was a real person's memories, and there was a reason she wanted Melinda to be able to see them._

Melinda jerked awake, and felt a presence next to her. She felt pain, betrayal. "It was your husband," she whispered. "And his brother."

The spirit next to her nodded, a tortured look in her eyes. "I want to report him," she replied. "I want everyone to know what a bastard he is."

"Tell me," Melinda urged. "When did this happen? When did you die? What's your name?"

"Thirty-four years ago," the woman answered. "I was twenty-two. And I'm Annie."

"Melinda. Then you know?" Melinda asked. "How much time has passed? Why wait this long?"

"He didn't mean to kill me," Annie said.

"What do you mean?" Melinda asked, incredulous after what she'd seen.

"He wanted to scare me," Annie continued. "I know that much. But he was so scared when I died after that...he buried right where I was. His brother got a shovel and while he was gone, my husband dug with his bare hands. He was crying the whole time. He didn't regret raping me but he regretted that he couldn't do it again. And for a while, for thirty-four years, that was enough. But now...he's marrying again. He was a small business owner. He's about fifty-six now, but there was a girl working in his office." Annie sighed, shivering and Melinda felt a new pain emanating from the woman.

"She's been there for fifteen years now," Annie said. "And they just got together. I've been watching. I thought, maybe, he'd changed. I didn't want to make trouble even if he had been capable of such evil once, maybe he wasn't now. But I saw him, Melinda. I saw the way he looked at her. And she isn't safe."

"What's his name?" Melinda asked.

"Levi Hamill," Annie said.

"Oh my god," Melinda said. "You're _the_ Annie. The one who...he said you ran away. It's a legend, that you ran away with his brother, leaving him all alone."

"He always was a good liar," Annie lamented. "And let just guess. Everyone believed him."

"He's the most popular divorcee at church," Melinda said. "He...he said he divorced you. He said you signed papers."

"He forged it," Annie said, her arms tightening around herself. "I watched him."

Melinda heard the back door of the shop open. Annie vanished.

"Wait," she called, but the woman was gone, and Jim was walking in.

"You scared her away," Melinda told him.

"Scared who?" He asked, coming to her and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Annie Hamill," she answered.

"Levi's wife who ran away?" He asked.

"She didn't," Melinda answered. "He raped her and she died during it. So then he buried her in the woods."

Jim blinked. "That's...deep. Damn, Mel. He always acted like such an upright man. My god, are there secrets around here."

They were both silent for a long moment.

"You get the billing done?" Jim asked, fingers sifting through the stack of invoices.

"Not very much," Melinda sighed. "I fell asleep. Then Annie sent me a vision and when I woke up, I was just talking to her."

Jim smiled. "That's okay. I don't mind you going in tomorrow."

"But we already made arrangements and Delia is watching it," Melinda sighed.

"There are certain things business owners must do," Jim answered. "Getting bills out in a timely fashion is more important than spending the morning in bed with me."

"No, it isn't," Melinda complained.

"Well, are you planning on finishing now?" Jim asked.

"Well, I should," Melinda said. "Because then, tomorrow afternoon, I can go out to the woods...and see if I can find a grave."

Jim shivered, and pulled her to him. "It never fails to scare me how cruel humans can be to one another. Please don't go out there alone. What are people going to think?"

"I don't know," Melinda answered. "But Levi will be brought to justice."

"What took Annie this long to appear?" Jim asked.

"He's getting married again, didn't you hear?" Melinda asked and Jim froze.

"Damn," he repeated. "No wonder you have to hurry."

"Just go home without me," she answered. "I do have to do this."

"See you in a few," he said, and kissed her deeply before she shoved him away.

"Go," she said mock sternly.

* * *

Two a.m. found Jim Clancy heading back into Same As It Never Was, using the back entrance and walking into the storeroom to find Melinda sleeping at her desk.

The pile of invoices was gone, signalling that she had, indeed, finished up before going to sleep.

Jim smiled as he hoisted her into his arms, cradling her close as he turned the lights off and edged his way through the door, digging in her pocket to find the keys to lock up.

He placed her in the passenger seat of his car, and drove the whole way home.

Melinda barely even shifted in her seat, she was that out of it.

He didn't mind, though, he thought as he picked her up again and carried her inside, going up the stairs to bed.

* * *

Melinda awoke the night morning in bed, undressed and feeling surprisingly rested. "I don't remember how I got here," she murmured, rolled on her side and saw Jim watching her, a smile on his face.

"I do," he answered. "Did you know it's incredibly hard to undress you when you're sleeping like that?"

"I bet you were up to the challenge," Melinda giggled, leaned forward and kissed him.

Really, there was nothing like finding yourself in bed without having to go there yourself.

* * *

A/N: And I will get back to Annie's story.

Also, feel free to check out the latest chapter of Rick's World of the Supernatural! I'd really like some extra feedback, because I introduced Jim in this chapter and would like to know what you thought of that.

Wishing everyone a wonderful Sunday.


	18. Revelation

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

It was certainly an odd situation, Jim reflected, and wondered what he should do. Call the cops? No, he dismissed that instantly.

Still, it wasn't every day you found your girlfriend of three months breaking and entering.

The story was this: he'd seen Melinda's red jeep driving out of town and he'd idly followed for a bit, as he was going in the same general direction, only to be completely floored when he saw her stop a house, deep off the main road, and approach it. She'd knocked at first but then, to Jim's horror, she had rooted around on a windowsill and located a key—lucky guess?—which she promptly used.

Okay, it wasn't breaking but she'd definitely entered.

And now Jim didn't know what to do. It could be dangerous, he rationalized. And this also amounted to spying on her and he wasn't sure how Melinda would react to that.

She was awfully touchy about some things; him not waiting and going to find her when she promised to 'be back in a second' for no reason and then wasn't. And she didn't like to talk about her past or anything that most people would consider private.

And once Jim had bumped into an old classmate of Melinda's and, upon being told this, she'd had a full panic attack finding out who it was and what he'd said.

He knew everyone had painful school stories but Melinda had taken it to the extreme and her utter relief at who it had—or hadn't—been had caused a steamy make-out session he still remembered vividly...but more because Melinda had so obviously just been distracting him and she usually didn't use such tactics.

So what was Melinda doing here? Was this connected to everything else strange about Melinda?

He watched the house and felt an odd push or tug or instinct to go after her. Now.

She's in danger, a voice insisted, deep inside of him.

Jim still held back, still afraid that this would spell the end for this relationship as he knew it, knowing that this incident could garner him the nickname Stalker Jim and earn him a place on the list of Melinda's jerky ex-boyfriends.

But now there was something else, an almost tangible voice or spirit telling him to go.

 _Now._

Feeling not entirely in control, Jim charged the house and when he reached the door discovered that it was once again all him, no power over him anymore, but he'd gone this far and might as well go the rest of the way in.

The door was slightly open; he'd thought Melinda had left it like that so she could leave quickly but then where was she and why was she still inside?

Jim padded into the house, through a short, dark hallway to the kitchen and then he started to hear it.

Gasping, moaning, other scuffling sounds of a struggle. He gave up all pride.

"Mel!" He bellowed. "I'm here, where are you?"

The sounds didn't pause. Something broke with the sound of glass accompanying it.

Jim charged, weaving through the downstairs rooms of the house with only one word echoing in his mind:

"Melinda!"

Dining room, living room, bathrooms and Jim tore up the stairs and stopped stock still. Melinda stood in the middle of the upstairs hallway, her eyes closed as if she couldn't open them and her hands at her throat as if she were trying to stop someone who was strangling her.

But there was no one there, Jim's rational side argued.

But there had to be, Jim's other side snapped back. Melinda's legs twitched and Jim ran forward and grabbed her around the waist, one hand going to her throat.

He felt a withdrawal, a removal, and then her hands fell to her sides and she went limp in his arms.

Paramedic training kicked in. He gently lowered her to the floor and checked all of her vitals before unbuttoning her blouse.

Red marks stood out on her throat. Jim leaned down and opened her mouth, performing CPR, any romance of such a moment completely lost in his panic. His hands pumped her chest and finally, suddenly, she started breathing again with a great and shuddering gasps.

His head fell back on her chest in relief; his cheek felt the scratchy lace of her bra and the velvet softness of her skin; he could hear and feel her heartbeat, a sound that steadied and calmed him. Her chest rose and fell with each breath; there was her heart beating erratically and her breaths coming in gulps as if to make up for the air she'd lost.

Jim raised his head and met her gaze. "What was happening here, Mel? Was that a seizure? Because it's not like any I've ever seen."

"It wasn't a seizure," she began. "It was a ghost. I can see ghosts, Jim. They can see me. I talk to them. They talk to me. Sometimes they're more angry, more powerful. Sometimes they can affect the living to this extreme."

"Ghosts?" Jim asked.

"I prefer to call them earthbound spirits, but yes, ghost works too," Melinda said.

"Ghosts."

"Yes," Melinda said, not looking at him anymore as she slowly moved to sit up.

"This explains everything," he said.

"What does it explain?" She asked, her voice suddenly sounding very tired.

"This is why you don't like talking about your past," he said. "This is why you ran away from me at the restaurant. _This_ is your secret, Mel. Oh god. Why didn't you tell me before now? I was so scared that it was something...big."

"This is big," she said, looking affronted.

"Yes, but it's part of you," he said. "It's not a family skeleton. It's just you. Another part to you."

"How can you be so calm?" She exploded. "Doesn't this change things? Doesn't this change everything?"

"Should it?" He asked. "It's you, Mel. And since I love everything about you, why not love this part too?"

She blinked at him and then she started to cry, lurching towards him and throwing her arms around him, tight. Tight like she never wanted to let go.

He pressed a kiss to her head. "All this means is that there's more to learn about you," he whispered in her ear. "And I'm fine with that."

She just squeezed tighter.

* * *

A/N: As I said, I will eventually get back to part 2 of the last chapter but not yet. I have two fluffy chapters for you, this being one.


	19. Go and Have Your Fun

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

A/N: I just couldn't resist this situation...enjoy!

* * *

Rick Payne stood across the room, staring at Jim with an intensity that would have bothered the paramedic had he not known the man so well by now.

After a moment, Rick seemed to shake off his trance and after another moment, he straightened, discarded the drink he was holding and headed Jim's way, brushing his hands over his jacket and pants as he did.

"I couldn't decide if my eyes were deceiving me or I would have come over sooner," Rick said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the crowd. "You clean up nicely. I suppose Melinda roped you into coming here in her place?"

Jim found himself tugging at his tux's collar, perhaps in response to Rick's compliment.

"You look alright yourself," Jim returned and Rick nodded, mimicking Jim by tugging at his tux; the cuffs. "But I don't know why you say that Mel sent me in her place." He saw an odd look pass over Rick's face when he mentioned Melinda. "She's here too."

"She is?" Rick asked, immediately jerking to attention and searching the crowd for Melinda. Jim wondered if this was something he should be bothered by but quickly shrugged it off, moving forward to snag a mini quiche off of a passing waiter's tray. So Melinda fascinated Rick Payne. She fascinated a lot of people, not the least of which was Jim, and at least Rick's interest was purely professional...or was it?

As Jim watched, Melinda emerged from the crowd in an elegant, gauzy pink dress, belted at the waist and going into a full skirt that fell past her knees. The short sleeves left her arms bare and the v-neck showed a modest amount of cleavage.

Jim heard, or sensed, Rick's sharp intake of breath; the sudden stiffening of the man standing next to him as Melinda neared them, floating through the crowd in no particular hurry; pausing to talk to many along her way. Jim knew that Rick's eyes were utterly glued to Jim's wife. So.

Maybe it wasn't purely a professional interest that Professor Rick Payne took in Melinda.

Melinda neared them and Jim held out his arm. The smile on her face as she took it warmed Jim's heart and made Rick stiffen even more.

"Sorry, the line to the restroom was longer than the Great Wall of China," Melinda apologized and Jim slid an arm all the way around her waist as she turned to greet Rick.

"You made it," Rick said, taking one of Melinda's hands in both of his own to greet her. "You didn't _say_ you were coming. I didn't know to look out for you." He released Melida's hand with an imperceptible sigh that Jim wasn't sure how he perceived. Maybe it was just that he knew the feeling of losing Melinda so well.

"I wasn't sure I could," Melinda began. "Jim was formerly working tonight. But then I decided it was important enough to break a shift."

"Why do you say that?" Rick asked, moving closer to hear her better and causing Jim to lessen his hold on Melinda's waist; and then released her entirely as she slipped away from him to speak to Rick better.

"I have a ghost," Melinda said.

"What, right now?" Rick asked, his head spinning around before returning to focus on Melinda.

"No, but I came tonight to ask you for help," she replied.

Jim saw Rick deflate.

"You mean, you didn't come solely to support me through this hellish evening?" Rick asked, his tone joking but the question deadly serious.

Melinda took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and took a drink, her lipstick leaving the imprint of her lips in pink on the glass.

"God, no," she said. "I'm already bored, in confidence, Rick. But it's time sensitive or I would be home rigyht now as I almost wish I was. "

Jim didn't miss the flickering of various emotions over Rick's face as Melinda spoke.

"Let's go somewhere else," Melinda said, looking for a place to discard her glass. Rick snatched it from her.

"I'll take care of this," he said. "Why don't you two just make your way to my office and I'll be there in a while."

"Okay," Melinda agreed; a bit too readily fo Rick's taste, Jim could took Jim's hand in her own and tugged him along with her. "But hurry," she called over her shoulder to Rick who smiled before slipping into the crowd.

* * *

Melinda led Jim outside of the building into the cool night air. He followed her as he always followed her; wondering where this was going.

Melinda led him through the quiet campus and then giggled and yanked him behind a tree.

Jim almost groaned as she threw herself into his arms, their lips meeting immediately. Her arms snaked across his chest and then down to his belt buckle.

"Not here," he panted, clamping his hands over hers and the seductive giggle that he received from her in return made him feel lightheaded. She pressed her hips ito his. "Come on," she purred.

But Jim, remembering the look in Rick's eyes, felt an utterly irrational twinge of guilt at the thought of making love to Melinda this close to where Rick was.

"Not tonight," he grunted and managed to push her away from him.

He saw her pouting and then she stalked off acoss the campus to Rick's office.

Jim considered following her but caught sight of Rick walking across the campus and the loneliness on his face caught Jim.

Jim wanted, or needed, a punch for how he was feeling. Melinda was his wife and he had no obligation to do this and he even felt minorly foolish.

But he wanted to let Rick have this, a few moments alone with Jim's Mel.

Because Jim knew the ache of unrequited love and he also knew that Mel, no matter what, would be coming home with him tonight. So he slipped into the trees to let Rick pass before heading back to the lights of the party, trying to ignore the euphoria he knew that Rick would be feeling when he found Melinda alone in his office.

Because, he again reflected, Mel woul come home with him tonight. So Rick could have her for right now.

* * *

But don't forget who's takin' you home  
And in whose arms you're gonna be

-Save the Last Dance For Me


	20. Hallows' Eve

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

A/N: I'm going with the seasons :) I don't remember GW tackling Halloween as of yet so if I make a mistake regarding Mel's thoughts on the wonderful holiday, apologies.

* * *

As Melinda closed the door on her latest group of trick or treaters (a group of a witch, gypsy, ninja and Darth Vader) she sighed happily.

"Have I told you yet that I love this holiday?" She called to Jim, who was in the kitchen, just home from his shift.

"A few dozen times," Jim called back. "Can we order out? You know I'd love to make you something but I'm bushed. I've been on my feet all day."

She hurried to the kitchen, seeing his weariness. His eyes were tired and he just seemed to be sagging.

"Tough day?" She asked, rushing forward to rub his shoulders. He sank into a seat and moaned at her touch, leaning over the back of the chair.

"The worst," he mumbled into his arms. "But can we talk about this later? I don't want to spoil the evening."

"Of course," Melinda promised. "So what kind of food do you want? Pizza, burgers, Chinese?"

"I don't care," he swore as she moved her hands over his shoulders. "Just please don't stop."

"I'm glad I took that masseuse course over the summer," Melinda murmured.

"So am I," he sighed.

"How about Mexican?" She asked. "Tacos or burritos?"

"Is there any Mexican place that delivers?" Jim asked. "I'm not up to answering the door in my current mood. Ah, there's some more!"

The doorbell had indeed rung again. Melinda smiled in apology before jogging towards it, snagging the cauldron filled with Milky Ways.

"Trick or Treat!" A group of middle schoolers shouted. Melinda didn't blame them for still dressing up. Indeed, she even liked the surly teenagers that came to her door; even the groups that didn't dress up or say the magic words, _trick or treat_. Melinda forgave them for all of that.

She knew that they were probably just doing it for free sugar but she loved anyone who got in the spirit of Halloween. Because, like it or not, Halloween was about death. And the more people thought about that, the better. It wasn't something to be feared. She knew that it needed to be faced eventually and loved that humans came back to it every year.

Well, some humans. Some people refused to think about death until it was far, far too late.

She shook off the macabre thinking and handed out her treats with happiness. Even if you forgot about the death part, she loved the community. She loved that you had to go ask strangers (and neighbors too, but mostly strangers in this day and age) for candy. That you could learn a bit about their lives and the people that lived in all the houses.

And, the biggest reason...

On Halloween, in high school, during the most miserable period of her life...It had been the best day of her year.

She dressed as whatever she wanted and she was _cool_. She could be a witch or a ghost or anything, and people would smile at her, even (or especially) those too 'cool' or scared to wear a costume themselves.

And in college, she'd dressed as a black cat and played a prank that she still remembered (and would never tell anyone about.)

Yes, Halloween held very good memories for her. She still remember her grandmother taking her trick or treating since her mother hated the holiday as she hated anything that reminded people of the dead.

Melinda closed the door behind the group (they were dressed as popstars; she wasn't sure which, she couldn't keep up) and went back to Jim, snagging the cordless phone along the way.

"Calabaza's," Melinda said. "They deliver. I'm calling them. Their tacos are pretty small. How about ten and some sides?"

"Sounds good," Jim said, getting to his feet. "Um. I'm going to go shower really quick. Hopefully that can soothe some of this away." He smiled at her, his usual sweet smile, and Melinda melted as she usually did before her wonderful husband.

She stepped forward to claim a kiss from him first but ended up disappointed when it was detached; Jim's mind was miles away still.

"Chicken or steak?" She asked as he started up the stairs.

"Half of each?" Jim said and disappeared.

She looked after him and dialed the phone, placing her order and finishing just seconds before the doorbell rang again.

"Trick or treat!" A group of very adorable preschoolers were on her doorstep: a policeman and Ironman. They were the cutest little boys Melinda had seen that evening and she almost melted from their utter sweetness.

"Thank you!" They chorused before going down the steps again.

"Happy Halloween!" She called after them, waving her hand.

She turned back to the kitchen, still smiling, when a ghost whammed into her.

She was immediately transported to another time, another place...it was still Halloween. There were trick or treaters...and someone with evil thoughts on their mind. Melinda shook the ghost off, staring at the figure in front of her. He was dressed like a werewolf, and his eyes begged Melinda for help.

"He took me," he said. "He took me and ended my life. You have to stop him before he strikes again."

Melinda stared at him. This promised an ominous ending. "Who did?" She asked. "Calm down. I will help you."

"The man..." The ghost faded away without warning. Melinda reached out for him but he was gone.

"I can' t help you without more information!" She called out but he was gone.

More trick or treaters came, until finally, one ring at the door was the delivery man. Melinda and Jim ate in silence in front of the TV, where there was a monster movie marathon. They were laughing their way through _Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein_ when the doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it," Jim offered, going to the door.

A moment passed. "Mel, I think it's for you," he said, appearing back in front of her.

"What do you mean?" She asked, standing up.

"There's no one there," he said simply. "No one that I can see, at any rate."

That was answer enough. Melinda ran to the door and her ghost was back.

"I can show you where he lives," he offered, staring at her and Jim behind her. "But I don't know his name."

"Lead the way," Melinda said, snagging her coat.

"What are you doing?" Jim protested.

"I have to," she pleaded. "Just this one thing."

"I'll come with you—" He began.

"Who will take care of the trick or treaters then?" She asked. "Stay here, Jim. I'll be back soon."

"How can you make that promise?" He asked, frustration in his voice. "Mel!"

She raced out into the windy night, going to her car where the ghost waited. She followed his directions in silence, taking each turn at a breakneck pace until they were parked in front of an eerie, dark house.

"What did he do to, Adam?" She asked.

"Horrible things, twisted things," Adam said, staring off into the distance. "Things I don't want to remember. And then he killed me. And he's going to do it again."

There was a group of younger teenage boys going up onto the brightly lit porch. That was enough for Melinda. She jumped from the car and charged toward the house, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

"You boys are a little old for this, aren't you?" The man who'd answered the door inquired. The look of him didn't promise evil but Melinda sensed it coming from him.

"Get away from him," she called. "He's an abuser and a sex offender."

The boys stared at her before backing away from both of them, hurrying down the sidewalk.

"What the hell was that about?" The man shouted. "If this is a prank, it sure as hell isn't funny."

"Adam didn't think it was funny either," Melinda said.

And that was all it took. He broke down then and there, a crazed look in his eyes. "What do you know about Adam?"

It was then that the police pulled up.

* * *

Melinda didn't get home until almost midnight. Giving her statement had taken a very long time, especially because everyone was questioning what she said. Mr. Sobar was an upstanding member of the community. Of course he wouldn't abuse teenage boys.

Except he did and had. Melinda used information fed to her by Adam and then watched as he walked into the light after Mr. Sobar was nailed. It wasn't how Melinda usually operated but this wasn't a usual case.

And now she was home again. Home again and feeling guilty as she charged up the stairs before stopping to think that Jim might be sleeping.

But he wasn't. He was standing by the window in pajama pants and nothing else, in a pool of moonlight. Melinda had never seen anything more sobering.

"Jim?" She asked, halting in the door. "What happened? Are you honestly alright?"

He didn't say anything, just ran to her and pulled her into his arms, holding so tight she could barely breathe. But he was there and still whole, warm and loving and strong.

Jim.

"Just be with me tonight," he said. "You were gone too long. Just...be with me. All your thoughts on me. Everything. All of you."

She stared at him but he was claiming her lips and sweeping her away. And, just as he wanted, all her thoughts were on him.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to GhostWhispererFangirl for asking me to update this...it felt good to be back with Jim and Melinda again.


	21. Mission, Part 2

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

* * *

Melinda had to force herself to walk through the door of Levi Hamill's shop. He owned a mechanic's shop just outside of Grandview and it was still a small, albeit successful, business. He'd never wanted to expand. Once she'd admired that about him. Now...she admired nothing about the man.

She felt a chill go down her spine to see his brother Damon behind the desk with him. Both men were in their mid-fifties now, and made a powerful looking pair. Though their hair was now salt and pepper, their faces were unlined and they remained tanned and muscular.

Melinda rethought doing it like this.

"Hi," she said. "Um. My car...it's making a funny noise."

"We just do body work," Levi apologized.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if I can get home with it acting like this," Melinda said. "Could you just take a quick look?"

The two brothers shared a look. Melinda would have thought it was sweet but for the shared experiences the brothers had. It was more than watching each others' back. It was...she didn't know. She couldn't think of the word that described the look of warning on the mens' faces.

"Okay, a quick look," Damon said, giving into his older brother's wishes. He threw down the paper he was holding and followed Melinda outside.

"So, your brother is remarrying," Melinda said cheerfully. "That's gotta be exciting, right?"

"Yeah," Damon said noncommittally, following her. She could feel his eyes on her ass and resisted the urge to run away from these men, as fast as she could until she reached Jim. "So what's the problem? Turn the car on."

She scrambled in, leaving the door open as she turned the key. Before she'd left the house, she'd used Penthius to find out how to loosen her fan belt.

A squeaking sound started with the car. Damon frowned.

"It should take you home," he grumbled. "It's just noise at this point. It's probably your fan belt."

Damn, he was good. "Really?" She asked brightly. "What do I owe you for this?"

She hopped down from the car again, propping her hands on her hips and staring up at him. Something twitched in his face. Was she too pretty a girl for his nerves? Would she end up like Annie?

"Did you like your brother's first wife, Annie?" Melinda asked. "I've heard that she was a really beautiful woman. Creamy white skin and red curls. A true hourglass figure."

Damon didn't move.

"And she was so young," Melinda said. "Or maybe the same age as you. Why'd she leave, Damon? What happened between you and her? Sorry, her and Levi?"

Damon just stared at her, his face like stone. "I don't think you know what you're talking about," he said, his voice lower and gravelly now. "But it's best to not stick your nose where it doesn't fucking belong."

She shrugged, stepping back and climbing into her car. "Doesn't matter to me," she said. "I guess you get curious."

As she drove away, she wondered if he'd noticed the shovel in the back of her car. She didn't care if he had.

* * *

Sweat ran down her back and her chest bounced uncomfortably as she pulled her long sleeved t-shirt over her head. The sun beat down on her and she was uncomfortable.

But she was in the woods, at the site of Annie's grave. And now it was time to start digging.

Annie stood at her side, watching her. "You have to go deep," she said mournfully. "He was careful."

"Okay," Melinda agreed, putting the shovel into the ground.

"Why didn't you get your husband to help?" Annie fretted. "I don't like this."

"My husband has his job and I have mine," Melinda huffed, heaving up another shovelful of dirt.

The work passed slowly. Annie guided her when needed, until Melinda saw the telltale mark of white. Her arms were aching and her legs were cramping and her throat was protesting at the amount of dust she'd kicked up.

"Those are my bones," Annie said quietly, her voice like dust.

"I guess I can go to the police now," Melinda said, wetting her lips.

That was when Annie disappeared. Melinda startled. "Annie?" She asked, climbing out of the hole she'd dug. "Where'd you go?"

"He's here," Annie whispered. "Ohmygod. He's here."

"Who is?" Melinda asked, horror in her voice.

"Both of them. Damon and Levi. They're here."

* * *

The first word to come to mind was _fuck_. The second was, _I hope you know what you're doing. You did this on purpose, right?_

"You killed your wife, Levi Hamill," Melinda said, once the two men stood in front of her, both a foot taller than she was. "And I can prove it." She gestured to the grave behind her.

"We were married," Levi spat. "My DNA could be on her simply from when we last fucked."

"But would your brother's?" Melinda asked, not backing down. "How could you? Annie loved you!"

"Annie was a whore," Levi said. "She cheated on me with Travis Bankdon. What the hell was I supposed to do in response to that? And she refused all of my advances for months before this. It was her fault. Besides, marital rape doesn't count."

"It sure as hell counts," Melinda said. "No is no. And yes, you can be prosecuted for marital rape. What the hell were you thinking, Levi Hamill?"

"Something like what I'm thinking now," Levi said coldly. "That the woman standing in front of me was a bitch and was about to go where she belonged."

He lunged forward and that was when two policemen burst from the trees behind Melinda. "Stand down!"

* * *

Jim held Melinda tight in his arms that night.

"Thanks for asking Leo and Dave to go with me," Melinda said quietly, tracing circles on his arm. "I was scared, Jim. They're so damn big."

"But you're okay," Jim whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "I was so tense that whole time...I'm just glad that Dave and Leo agreed to do it. I was about ready to have a heart attack when you called me. When you _finally_ called me, I might add."

She nodded, turning to press her lips into his neck. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "Want me to make it up to you?"

"I've been waiting for it all night," he said. "But I thought you were too tired."

"I'm never too tired," she promised and let her soft arms slide around his neck as their lips met hungrily. He pulled at her lip and she moaned, arching into him before sensing something.

"Annie's here," she whispered, pulling back. Jim groaned, almost following her down but stopped himself.

"You disappeared this afternoon," Melinda said, staring at the ghost in front of her.

"I didn't think it would work," Annie said forlornly.

"It did," Melinda vowed. "You can go into the light now. There's nothing to hold you here now that Damon and Levi are behind bars."

"There's something else," Annie said unhappily. "I'm sorry for not saying it before...Travis Bankdon. Can you tell him that I would have left Levi for him?"

"Of course," Melinda said. "Now can you go to the light? What else is keeping you? Can you even see the light?"

"Yes," Annie said. "I can see it. But I don't want to go into it. You don't know what Levi is like. For all I know, next morning he's going to already have convinced the police he was innocent. I was just there and his fiance was there, telling him she believed in him, of all things. Melinda, you have to protect her."

"I can only protect her as much as she wants to be," Melinda protested. "If she won't believe that of him, there's nothing I can do."

"Then that's not enough," Annie said and disappeared.

"Wait, Annie!" Melinda said, starting to toss the blankets off but Jim stopped her.

"Is she gone?" He asked.

"Yes, but..." She trailed off, looking at him.

"What, babe?" He asked, propping himself on one arm and concentrating on her face.

"She won't go into the light," Melinda fretted. "I'm worried about what she's going to do."

"It'll be fine," he said. "Now come here."

She hesitated, her mind spinning.

But, after all, what could Annie do?

Melinda sank down in her bed, letting Jim shift so that he was looming over her.

"Have I told you yet that I love your new nightgown?" He asked, plucking the soft fabric down to reveal her breasts.

"Not as much as you love what's underneath, hmm?" She asked, as the cool night air made her nipples pebble.

"That's sure as hell true," Jim said, his voice rasping as he leaned down. Melinda had no more room in her mind to think of Annie when Jim's mouth landed on her breast.

No. Room.

* * *

The next morning, Melinda was awoken by Jim frantically shaking her.

"What happened?" She asked, rubbing her eyes awake.

"You have to listen to this," he said, turning the radio louder.

"Meanwhile, in local news, the bodies of Levi Hamill and Damon Hamill were found this morning in their holding cells at the police department. Police refuse to comment. We don't know yet if it was suicide..."

Jim turned the radio off, staring at Melinda. "I guess you were right to be worried," he said, his voice somber. "I'm sorry, Mel. I shouldn't have distracted you last night."

"No, there was nothing I could have said or done to stop Annie at that point," Melinda said, feeling chilled. She pulled her arms around herself and Jim plucked a shirt off the floor to give her.

She had just pulled it on when she felt eyes on her.

Annie.

"She's here," Melinda rasped and the ghost met her eyes.

"Hello, Melinda," Annie said, her voice cold and her eyes clear. "I'm ready to go into the light now."

"You shouldn't have killed Levi and Damon," Melinda said, her voice shaking.

"I didn't kill them," Annie said. "I just influenced them and they killed themselves." Her voice was gleeful as she looked at Melinda. "You know, I'm not sure why I didn't do it before now."

"Get out," Melinda shouted. "Get out of my house."

"Gladly," Annie said and disappeared.

Jim was looking at Melinda, a shaken look on his face. She lunged into his arms, her body shaking.

"I don't even know what to think now," Melinda said, her voice weak. "Oh god. Suppose the memories she showed me were fake. Suppose Levi or Damon...oh god. I don't even know anymore."

"It's okay," Jim promised. "It's fine. She's gone."

* * *

A/N: Whew! That got really dark, really fast! I should have published this two days ago!


	22. Pain

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: One part sick-fic, one part Want to Want Me by Jason Derulo because it's playing on repeat in my head currently.

This takes place right after chapter 20.

* * *

Jim rolled over in bed, just beginning to wake up, and he immediately sensed that something wasn't right.

His ears were clogged, and his nose was so stuffed he had to breathe through his mouth.

Next to him, Melinda was just rolling over to face him.

"Don't kiss me," he croaked, and discovered that he also had a sore throat.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Too much exposure to germs yesterday and too much Halloween candy while you were gone," Jim said. "I don't want to spread it to you so keep away."

She shook her head, placing a hand on his forehead and smoothing back his hair in the process. "You're burning up," she commented and slipped from the bed. "I'll get a cold wash cloth and the thermometer."

Jim couldn't bring his tired body to respond. As he lay there, waiting for Melinda to come back, his head started to dully pound with a headache.

And then he remembered the day before...

* * *

"Sam Coltrane came in with appendicitis, how did she end up in the critical care unit?" Jim asked in frustration. Sam was his first ambulance call of the day, and the 8 year old girl had gone straight to his heart with the way she tried to hold up against the pain. He'd taken extra pains to make her comfortable, even for Jim, who always took care of the accident struck people that came his way.

And he'd fully expected to have heard that she was well on the road to recovery and he'd bought a small teddy bear in the gift shop to give her as a get well present.

And now he was slammed with the news that...

"Something went wrong in the surgery; the docs aren't talking about it yet," Sandy explained, the IC nurse on duty then.

Jim felt anger beginning and he squeezed the bear tight in his hand. This was happening too much lately. God.

This was why he wanted to be a doctor. So that when paramedics like himself brought suffering people in, he could actually ease their pain instead of making it worse.

He handed the bear to Sandy. "Could you make sure she gets this?" He asked, his voice almost unsteady.

"Of course, Jim," she said knowingly, since she'd knew all about his struggle to get the doctors to listen to him, and something about his dream to go to medical school.

"I have to go," Jim said, just wanting to go home and be with Melinda. He felt bone tired and there was restless energy he was giving off that he was afraid would turn to anger if he let it go unchecked.

He wanted to stop by the gym on the way home but it was Halloween. Melinda would be expecting him.

So instead he drove home in a daze, only remembering the look of agony on Sam's face as the little girl tried to suppress the pain.

God. If she didn't make it, he didn't know what he'd do.

* * *

Melinda came back into the bedroom with the washcloth, placing it on his forehead.

"Open up," she said gently and placed the thermometer under his tongue. "101."

"Give me fluid," Jim said tiredly. "And keep me warm."

"Jim, I do actually know something about what to do for fevers," she said soothingly. "You can count on me to get you through this. What brought it on, babe? Besides germs and candy."

"Stress brought on the fever, I'd bet," Jim said. "Mel...the reason I was so out of it yesterday was because I took an eight year old girl to the hospital yesterday."

"Okay," Melinda said. "So what happened?"

"She was doubled over in pain because she had appendicitis," Jim said, his voice agonized. "I did my best to make her comfortable. Oh god, Mel."

"Come on, Jim," she whispered.

"It should have been a simple operation. I've had people with appendicitis a dozen times and they've always pulled through. But this time, one of the doctors hit an artery or something shitty like that." He scraped a hand over his face. "I wanted to kill the operating team when I heard that. Who does that? She's in IC now. She wasn't expected to make it through the night. They did an emergency transfusion, of course, but Mel...this is why I have to be a doctor."

"I get it," she said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "But Jim, let's concentrate on getting you well before we find out what happened to Sam."

Jim nodded, and miserably rolled over on the bed.

"I'm going to make chicken soup," she said cheerfully. "It'll be good, babe. Don't worry."

* * *

The day passed in an agonizing blur of Melinda tending him, staring at the walls and the ceiling and dizzy trips to the bathroom. He hated how weak he felt; he hated that he didn't know how Sam was but recognized the wisdom in Melinda's words. If Sam turned out to be fine, yes, that could speed up his healing process.

But if she didn't...Jim was afraid to think of what that knowledge could do to his health.

He kept on imagining the girl, biting her lip as she tried to pretend it didn't hurt. "I'm okay," she whispered to him. "It really doesn't hurt that much. Ughh...I don't want mommy and daddy to have to pay for this. Hospitals are expensive, so that's why my little brother was born at home."

"Don't worry about the money, Sam," Jim whispered to her. "You need to go to the hospital so that the doctors there can make you well. They have to do an operation and take out your appendix. It'll be cool, I promise. Plus, then you'll get a really awesome scar that you can boast to your friends about."

"But hospitals...ugh," she moaned from the pain. "Suppose it costs daddy his new job to take time off to see me there?"

"You are more important than money ever will be to your parents," Jim promised. "Come on, Sammy baby. Stop fighting me. We have to go."

The ambulance started. Sam heard the sound of the siren and her eyes widened. "I'm in that much trouble?" She asked, her lips trembling again.

He added a morphine drip to her IV. "You're going to be fine," he soothed. "Come on, babe. Breathe for me. Breathe through the pain."

* * *

Jim spent the evening with Melinda close to him, tending to his every need. He was feeling better; his head was clear and so were his ears and his nose. He had a lingering sore throat but he had a feeling that it would go away by morning. He leaned against Melinda on his way upstairs, though, her soft, warm arms tight around his body. She was so strong, he reflected. She could support him in so many more ways than one.

Once upstairs, she helped him into new pajamas and he got in bed, staring at the ceiling before he realized that she was undressing and there was something better to watch.

She caught him looking and her eyes sparkled. "Ooh, I didn't think you were up for that," she teased.

"I don't know if I am, but it feels good to look," he rasped, and she made a show of tugging her shirt over her head.

"What next, my bra or skirt?" She whispered.

"Skirt, save the bra for last," he requested and she wiggled out of her skirt, making a dance out of it, her hips wiggling from side to side. Her panties followed, and then her hands fingered the clasp on her bra.

"Do you want to do it?" She asked silkily.

"You do it," he asked and almost closed his eyes against the vision of it coming off; it was that good. "You're so beautiful."

She crawled onto the bed, coming to be over him. "Are you up for it?" She asked and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to take her breasts into his mouth. He wanted to forget all of his feverish imaginings. He wanted to be so tired when he fell asleep that night that he dreamed no dreams, and never woke up gasping for breath and wondering how Sam was.

"I want it, I really do," he whispered. "But I'm too tired."

"Oh, babe, I will do all of the work," she purred, and slid her body down his.

He felt her touching him and drifted off into dreamland with her hands on him, taking him to beautiful places so he could forget.

* * *

The next morning, Jim woke with a clear head. He looked at the clock and it was past nine; he'd slept in. Melinda came into his room with a peaceful look on her face, holding his phone in her hand.

"What happened?" He asked.

"That was Sandy," she said. "Sam made it. She's thriving, Jim."

He wept for joy, his relief was that strong. Melinda came forward to wrap her arms around him, and he again reflected on her strength.

"Thank you," he said.

* * *

He stopped by Sam's room and she was already preparing to go. A woman that must have been her mother was hurrying her to get dressed.

Jim saddened to think what she was telling Sam. _You can't stay another day if you're well. Too much money._

Sam recognized him and ran forward. "Jim! You gave me this bear?"

"I did," he said. "Are you feeling good, sport?"

"I am feeling great," she promised. "And you were right. It is an awesome scar."

* * *

A/N: By the way, I hate Jim's haircut in the third season.

My dad has his appendix out. He said the stomach pains beforehand were the worst pain he'd ever felt.

And a friend of my parents' grown daughter died during an appendicitis operation for similar reasons. The doctors made a mistake. She left behind two children.


	23. Late

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: I decided to type and see where Jimel ended up...it'll probably be a good place.

* * *

The snow was coming down thick and heavy. Melinda frowned at the sky above her, worrying. "I wonder if Jim will be able to make it home!"

Andrea, next to her, chuckled. "What do you mean by home?"

"I mean here, my apartment," Melinda said, letting herself be flustered.

Andrea sighed. "Well, I don't envy him the drive," she said, picking up her coat and purse. "I'm dreading driving the five minutes to my job!"

"You'll be fine," Melinda said. "Now go."

"I know, I know," Andrea said. "If he does make it, you don't want anything breaking up your lovefest. God, you two are disgusting since you got engaged."

"You caught me," Melinda said. "And yes, I know we are. Love ya, Andrea."

"Love you too," Andrea signed and left the apartment. Melinda sighed contentedly, hugging her arms around herself. Only two more hours until Jim got back from visiting his mother. God, she wished she'd talked him into flying! The drive was so unutterably long and his absence had taken a bigger toll on her than she'd been expecting.

Besides, it would have been fun to have one of those airport reunions like in the movies. She could picture herself running into his arms; Jim would drop his bags and lift her off of the floor, spinning her around as they kissed.

And then they would spend a happy hour in her car making out before driving home from the airport. But no.

Jim had decided it was more cost efficient to drive, considering how much the prices on flights always hiked upwards at this time of year. Melinda couldn't argue with that kind of reasoning, especially because her antique shop still hadn't taken off like she'd expected it to, wished it to. Indeed, if desire was enough to bring something like that to fruition, Melinda's shop would be open by now. It was one of her biggest and longest lasting dreams, after all. But the bank was dragging its feet, suddenly unwilling or unable to make such a loan.

And Jim...he brought in a decent salary as a paramedic but...his mom wanted them to have a big wedding. Neither of Jim or Melinda's salaries could provide that and Jim had also told Melinda he had an eye on a house.

A house. Their own house. It was almost more than Melinda had ever dreamed, at least for so soon after their wedding.

She heard her cell phone ring and immediately flipped it open. The reception was atrocious but she managed to discern, through the crackling of the line, that it was Jim.

"I can't hear you," she told him.

"I'm off schedule," he shouted back, and her heart sank.

"It's okay," she managed. "I'll see you when you get back."

She hung up the phone and tried to fight back tears. Jim couldn't make it home today after all. That was okay, she tried tried to reason with herself. It was late anyway by now. She'd go to bed and see Jim in the morning.

She went to her small bedroom and pulled her specifically chosen sweater over her head, hanging it carefully in her closet and thinking of how it wouldn't have made it anywhere near the closet had Jim been the one to take it off.

Her jeans were also hung up carefully and she unsnapped her bra, fitting that carefully into its drawer. She pulled a flannel nightgown over her head, since Jim wouldn't be a around to keep her warm and therefore she had no reason to be sexy either.

Funny how those two things went together.

She brushed her off teeth and for in bed, pulling the covers tight around her.

There was a knocking at the door but she ignored it. There was no way Andrea didn't have her keys and she wasn't opening the door for anyone else at this time of night.

And a moment later, the door was opening, slowly. Yeah, it was just Andrea. She was probably knocking because she'd forgotten when exactly Jim was coming and didn't want to disturb.

Even now, Melinda's door was creaking open and someone was shuffling in. "Jim's going tobe late, Andrea," she related, not rolling over.

The bed dipped. Melinda was surprised but didn't mind Andrea's forwardness. She was probably just going to give her a good night hug.

"Is that what you heard?" A husky voice whispered, near her ear before lips landed over hers that were definitely not Andrea's. His stubble scraped her skin but she barely noticed as she kissed him back. "Jim!" She exclaimed. "What the hell? You said you were off schedule!"

"And I was going to be early," he protested. "Bad connection."

His face was cold as he rested it inches cheek, breathing next to her.

"You're freezing," she said.

"I won't be for long if I have my way with you," he whispered. His mouth was trailing downwards and she shivered to feel his mouth on the top swell of her breasts.

"You're seriously freezing," she panted. "Maybe I could lend you some of my body heat."

"That sounds like a good idea," he said, moving his hands over her throughout blankets.

"You should probably take your clothes off too," she advised. "Skin to skin contact and all that."

"Ooh, I'm rubbing off on you," Jim said, shucking his coat. She turned her head in time to see other items of clothes also go flying through the air. And then Jim was climbing in bed next to her, under the blanket. He was hiking her nightgown up and she shivered, from feeling his hands on her thighs.

"Freezing," she reminded.

"I bet they won't be for long," he whispered and nipped her ear with his mouth.

And they weren't.

* * *

A/N: I was also thinking of one of Riley's dreams in TCL, the one where she's in bed and Kyle comes in and tries to kiss her and she kicks him out. LOL, that last part definitely didn't happen here!


	24. Give Thanks Or something else

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Another prompt from LovelySarah16. I'd love to have more requests from you! This totally got me out a mini-slump of not knowing what to write.

* * *

Andrea was leaning against the counter. "All I am saying is that there is a purse, from a company that I will not name, that is going on sale tomorrow. Melinda. You have to come with me."

"Go alone if you want it!" Melinda protested. "Why do you have to take me with you? I hate Black Friday!"

"You hate the crowds," Andrea countered. "Not the deals. _Nobody_ hates the deals."

As the statement hit her, Melinda narrowed her eyes at Andrea, remembering a certain set of ceramic pots she'd been pining over for a while now. They'd be on sale this Friday; for about 70% off.

"You know my weaknesses," she admitted, swinging out from behind the counter, hips swaying unconsciously.

Andrea shrugged. "I've known you long enough to know how to tempt you."

"Unfortunately," Melinda said. "Here's the deal. We will go to two stores. No less; no more. You will get your bag and I will get my set of ceramic pots."

"Deal," Andrea nodded. "And we take Jim."

"Why?" Melinda asked.

"We need a man to fight our battles for us," Andrea said. "One year I got a black eye. If Jim is there, everyone will stare at his ass and biceps instead of trying to kill us over my bag."

"I'll ask him," Melinda said, pointing her finger at Andrea. 'And if he says no, no means no. Jim hates shopping, you know."

"Jim would do anything for you," Andrea scoffed. "And that includes shopping."

Melinda just sighed. "I'm just thankful that Jim and I are hosting Thanksgiving this year. And that is a sentence I never thought I would say."

Andrea laughed. "How's that going?"

"Jim is in charge of the turkey, praise be," Melinda said, counting off on her fingers. "And the stuffing and mashed potatoes and the sweet potato casserole...the only I'm doing is the green bean casserole and then Faith is bringing some expensive sides and my mom is bringing dessert and you are bringing...?"

"Homemade bread and fresh-churned butter," Andrea answered. "I remembered my kindergarten class where we made butter in a jar and I couldn't help it." She sighed. "It really, really does taste better."

"Mm," Melinda said. "I believe you. Still, I can't believe until Thanksgiving is over. And Black Friday with it."

* * *

The next day started with Jim kissing his way down her back. "Hey, babe," he murmured.

"I'm glad I have you for Thanksgiving," she said. "Since you're on shift on Christmas, we can spend it alone and instead of trying for a circus with our parents again."

"We're doing New Years with them instead," Jim reminded, going lower on her back and she shivered.

"Yeah, but then you have a better excuse to drink," Melinda sighed.

Jim laughed against her back and she moved against his mouth. "Your mother is arriving this morning," she reminded. "By train."

"At ten o'clock," he sighed, pressing another kiss to her skin.

"The turkey," she said. "You were going to put it in early."

"I already put it in," he said. 'I'm beginning to think you don't want this."

"I..." She sighed. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Uh oh," he said. "That's trouble."

With that, he straightened, leaning on his side and keeping his mouth and hands to himself.

"What's this about?" He asked and she flipped around to face him.

"Andrea wants to go Black Friday shopping," she said.

"She can go ahead and do that," Jim agreed easily.

"She wants me to go with her," Melinda continued.

He shrugged. "That's fine too."

"She wants you to come with us," Melinda hedged.

"Hell no," Jim said immediately and Melinda burst out laughing.

"You were so accommodating until I mentioned shopping," she said.

"Black Friday shopping!" He exclaimed. "Which I will not do. No. You know I hate Black Friday. I get that it's when you get the deals, Mel, but it's not something that I will do, the day after I'm thankful for all I've got."

"I just want to get a set of ceramic pots," Melinda said."And all Andrea wants is a purse."

"Why do you need me?" Jim wondered. "Why on earth?"

"Protection," Melinda said.

"Andrea can elbow people better than I have ever seen," Jim said. "Especially when she wants something."

"Hey!" Melinda protested. "Actually, what we had in mind was a bit different. We were thinking that people would be too busy staring at you to care about what we were doing."

"Seriously?" Jim said. "Now I've been relegated to eye candy."

"Please," Melinda pleaded. moving closer. "You can have whatever you want in return. Any of me. All of me."

Jim looked at her, eyes darkening. "Anything?"

"Whatever you want," she promised, placing a hand on his chest.

"I want you to play mediator between our moms today," Jim whispered.

"You wouldn't," Melinda gasped.

"That's what it would take," Jim said.

"It's not what I had in mind," she sighed.

"Well, I can have some of that anytime I want," Jim reminded. "And you'd never be able to say no to me."

* * *

They sat in Melinda's Explorer, waiting to go in.

"There are already lines," Andrea complained, unbuckling.

"We'll survive it," Melinda said.

"We'd better," Jim grumbled. "And then we'll leave to get Melinda's pots."

They headed to the store, where the lines were almost unbelievable but for the fact that it was Black Friday and to be expected.

"I won't be able to get the purse," Andrea complained.

"The Zinel purse?" A woman asked, turning around. "Genuine velvet, pink and gold clasps?"

"Yes!" Andrea exclaimed and the two glared at each other upon finding a competitor for the same item.

"There'll be two," Jim said. "Calm down."

"Maybe there will be two but there won't be much more than that," Andrea complained.

"Oh, the horrors," Jim sulked.

"Wow, your husband really isn't cheerful when you take him out on the wrong day," Andrea said to Melinda.

"Let's just say that our moms got into it like you wouldn't believe," Melinda said. "Faith insisted on Jim driving her to the train station tonight even though there were no trains and they ended coming back and then driving back at 5 a.m. to drop her off again, successfully this time, at least."

Andrea took a step back from Jim. "I've never known him to be grumpy," she whispered. "He's so mild mannered."

"Even Clark Kent can't always be Superman," Melinda muttered.

The doors of the store opened and there was instant pandemonium. Andrea charged her way to the bags while dragging Melinda and Jim behind her. "Don't you dare let me lose you!" She called back to them as they hurried after her.

"Okay, okay!" Melinda insisted, breaking into a jog. "You do realize that you are 6 feet and I'm only 5'2", right, Andrea?"

"So?"

"You can go much faster than I can!"

"Break a sweat, girl," Andrea called back and Melinda sighed.

"She's morphed into an entirely new person," Jim said to Melinda as they elbowed their way through the crowd.

"I can't even remember how long it's been since I've been shopping on Black Friday," Melinda called to him. "Not since college."

"Let me guess, it was Andrea egging you on then too!" Jim said, gripping her hand even tighter as they moved around a group of women who were blocking a display.

"I didn't meet her until after college," Melinda reminded. "We got an apartment together?"

"Right," Jim said. "What drew you out then?"

"I wanted to get my boyfriend at the time a perfect Christmas gift and was convinced it was a watch," Melinda said. "He was obsessed with time. Anyway, there was this really expensive and multifunctioning one on sale at 80% but the store said they'd only have about five. I basically killed myself getting the damn watch and then..."

"What?" Jim asked, his hand suddenly feeling very assuring and sweet.

Melinda was caught for a moment in the realization of how lucky she was. That Jim was here, mostly willingly and mostly uncomplaining. That his hand was in hers. That she could reach out and take his hand whenever she wanted to, for whatever reason.

"Melinda!" Came Andrea's bellow. "Hurry up!"

They dashed ahead to Andrea's side.

"Cover me," Andrea panted, staring at a group of intense looking women in front of the purse section.

"I got you," Melinda responded.

As Andrea clawed her way into the pack, Melinda held off the other women and Jim helped her.

Finally, after way too much time had passed, Andrea returned, flushed and triumphant.

"I got it," she said. "Let's go check this bad boy out."

"You didn't finish your story," Jim reminded Melinda.

"What story?" Andrea asked.

"Of why she went out Black Friday shopping in college," Jim said. "She got her boyfriend a watch and then?"

"He broke up with me before I could give it to him," Melinda said. "But I have a very happy ending to this story."

"And what's that?" Andrea asked, whipping out her debit card before the cashier could even ask for it.

"I pawned it and made a killing," Melinda said happily. "I got it 80% off, a $500 watch. So I paid $100 and got back $400." She smiled. "It was a good investment."

"That is some story," Andrea said as they left the store, flushed. The cold air felt good on their now sweating bodies.

"I almost want to take my coat off," Melinda said, tightening her grip on Jim's hand as they crossed the street.

"Feel free," Jim said. "I can take it to the car, if you want."

"And let you miss the next store?" Melinda asked, shooting him a look and Jim grinned at her.

"I can at least try to get out of this," Jim said cheerfully. "Can't you forgive me for wanting to miss this warzone?"

"I guess," Melinda said. "You ready?"

They stood at the threshold to another store. This one looked just as crowded but Melinda was more assured of there being a larger quantity of the pots she wanted. And there were so many other kinds that the store sold, she doubted they'd be out. They'd only been opened for an hour anyway.

"Let's go, baby!" Andrea said. "I do need some new wine glasses! Ooh, and a pasta pot! And maybe a colander!"

"That was not part of the deal," Melinda and Jim said in unison. "We are not staying for that."

"Whatever," Andrea complained and they dove into the fray.

Melinda walked as quickly as she could through the crowds. She was keenly aware of Jim's body close behind her, sheltering her from the worst of it. She felt her heart warm and something else tingle.

She had a sudden idea of what to do with her husband the rest of the day. Oh, the activities she could imagine!

"Here are the pots," Jim said loudly. "Which set did you want?"

She pointed it out, surprised, and even more surprised when Jim willingly dove into the fray to get the pots, earning vicious looks and elbowings.

He came back triumphant and Melinda rose an eyebrow. "That was shocking," she said.

"Let's get out of here," Jim said, taking her hand again and tucking it over his arm.

"I agree," Melinda said. "I can think of a million things to do at home and none of them involve large crowds or quarrelling mothers."

Jim's face lit up with a million watt smile. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"I am indeed," she said.

Andrea appeared out of the crowd with a panicked look on her face. "Guys, they have glassware here that would give you orgasms!"

Jim appeared mildly shocked at her choice of words before exchanging glances with Melinda.

"I think we can take care of each other," Melinda said and Andrea groaned.

"You're leaving, then?"

"Oh yeah," Melinda said, tucking Jim's arm around her. "You want us to take your bag for safe keeping?"

"We drove together," Andrea said sulkily, following them out. "Whatever. I guess I'm broke anyway."


	25. Sabotage (Not What You Think)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: As a quick note, I'm on the 'invitation list' at archiveofourown (.org). As soon as I get the 'in' email, I'm going to post everything that's on this user there too, as a backup measure since isn't kind to M rated stories. And it just makes sense. So you can look for me there soon.

BTW, not leaving by any means, I'm just going to be posting on AO3 too.

This is a long overdue prompt from GhostWhispererFangirl: a day home for Melinda and Jim, with no interruptions.

I'm currently listening to Adele's new album (for those reading in the future, it's _25_ and I _love_ it.)

* * *

Melinda sat at the picnic table, a bottle of beer sitting lazily in her hand and she turned it around a few times as she gazed across the yard at her husband.

Jim was wrestling...er, fixing...the grill. The winter hadn't been kind to it and now her husband, longing for smoky, charred food, was desperately trying to save it before she eventually convinced him to just scrap it. It had been a cheap grill anyway; a wedding present from friends of Jim's that had called Melinda _Melissa_ the one time they met her before the wedding.

So there were other reasons that Melinda wasn't too attached to it. She'd rather just buy their own damn grill, spend the extra money and have it actually work well and not crumble to pieces after one winter.

She had no patience for things that didn't hold up well in weather. None at all.

She stood up and stretched, her sleeveless blouse (knotted at the waist to show off her stomach and her new tan from a day last week spent at the beach) rode up even more and she glanced toward Jim, hoping to catch his eye, but he was determinedly underneath the grill, getting greasy and sweaty.

Usually a combination that would be sexy, but not today. Not that kind of grease.

Melinda headed inside, her denim cut offs mercifully short. She didn't really believe in wearing pants when she wasn't working...and it was summer...and there was no reason not to. Bare legs were her go to look. Always.

Except for bikinis. She really didn't mind bikinis either.

She moved upstairs and into the bedroom, going to the window as she got undressed so that if Jim looked up, he could see her standing there.

He didn't. He really didn't even stop looking at the underside of the grill.

She sighed and moved to grab the black and white polka dot bikini top and bottom, wiggling into them and checking herself out in the mirror. She did adore that vintage patterns were coming back into vogue. She loved anything old.

She pulled her hair into a messy bun and grabbed her sunglasses, a quick 'beach' read and her beach towel from the cabinet before walking outside and finding a spot on the lawn that was perfect for her towel...and not very far from the grill.

Jim didn't even notice.

Typical man.

She lay down on the towel and picked up the book, bringing one leg up to casually prop it on the other knee.

She might have been imagining it, but there seemed to be a momentary pause in the clang of tools.

A few minutes later, she twisted to lie on her side, her breasts almost falling out of the bikini top at the move.

Now she was facing Jim, almost, and she could definitely see a pause in his working.

Well, it was time to up the stakes.

She rolled on her stomach next, using the book as a prop, since arms tired easily from holding books no matter what position they were in.

She arched her ass a little, making a show of stretching out and then she continued to read, her legs growing warm in the sun.

She managed to concentrate on her book and not check Jim out. She didn't hear a pause but that didn't mean he wasn't looking...she hoped.

Too much time went by without a reaction so Melinda decided to go all out. She knew for a fact that both of their next door neighbors were on vacation this week.

She put the book down and adjusted her bun.

Jim didn't budge.

She turned slightly so that her back was more facing him and then she reached her fingers around to the clasp.

The tools clattered to the ground.

Her fingers worked the clasp and the bikini top fell to the ground.

She casually moved back to lying on her back, moving her hands behind her head.

A moment later, Jim was looming above her, on his hands and knees in the grass.

"Yeah, babe?" She asked, forcing a casual tone.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm tanning," she said. "Delia got this amazing tan and I'm frankly jealous so I'm going to go a shade deeper today."

"Did you need to take your top off?" He asked, his mouth dipping to brush the exposed skin.

"Mm," she said, wiggling away from him. "Um, I don't like awkward tan lines under low cut tops."

Jim met her eyes, which were thankfully shaded by her sunglasses so he couldn't see the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Really?" He asked, moving to again press his mouth to her chest.

"Well, yeah," she said.

He snapped her sunglasses off, and moaned. "Melinda, you were vamping me," he complained, pulling her into his arms and rolling onto his back in one swift motion, bringing Melinda on top. "You always hated that grill."

He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, and she could feel his tongue and even his teeth.

God, she loved this man.

"That's too damn true," she said, trying to pull up his white tank top but he brushed her hands away.

"Oh, no," he said. "You seduced me away from repairs and now you need to pay the price."

"What price is that?" She wondered.

He caught her hands in his. "No control," he whispered.

She didn't bother telling him that he, in coming over, proved that she had _all_ the control in their relationship. "Deal," she whispered back and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

Lunch was hot cheese sandwiches, which Melinda fried up as Jim showered.

He came into the kitchen as she finished cutting them in half. "You know, we could have had burgers, if someone hadn't distracted me from fixing the grill," he commented, pressing his lips to the back of her neck in a brief motion.

"You know, I think I'll survive without burgers until we buy a new grill," she said innocently, putting a pickle on each plate.

He paused in taking a beer from the refridgerator. "Why would we need a new grill, honey?" He asked, using the can opener to pop the lid from the bottle.

She glanced back at him, keeping her tone as innocent as his. "Well, ours is broken."

"No, it's just a little rusty from spending a winter outdoors," he said, sitting down across from her. They said a momentary blessing: more a closing of the eyes and clasping of the hands than a real request and began to eat. "Whose idea was that, I don't remember."

"You were just busy last fall and didn't have time to put away the lawn stuff," she said, taking a sip of her own beer to hide her mouth and the twitching of her lips.

"The lawn furniture got put away," Jim countered.

 _Yeah, and then I got you inside before you could bother with the grill_ , she thought slyly and shrugged, taking a big bite of sandwich and making a big show of chewing.

Jim took a bite of his own sandwich. "I love mustard," he sighed. "Especially with corned beef and swiss. This is so good, Mel. Thanks for making lunch."

"You didn't even miss the burgers," she chanced.

"I guess not," he sighed again and finished his sandwich with visible enjoyment.

* * *

"I was thinking we could go into town for a bit this afternoon, do a bit of summer shopping," Melinda said, changing into a sundress after lunch and coming back downstairs to see that Jim had finished the dishes, bless him.

"Summer shopping?" He asked, a quizzical expression on his face. "What's that?"

"Well, I could do with some new bathing suits," she said. "I've only got ones from last season and bathing suits have such a short life once you wear them to actually swim in anyway, and if we're actually going to the beach for a week this summer, I'd like to get all new suits."

Jim just kind of stared at her during the talk about bathing suits, as if that was what she were wearing. "Sorry, you want me to go along for this?"

"Yes, of course, so you can tell me what styles you like," she said, accidentally on purpose taking that moment to adjust her dress's neckline.

Jim cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, but I'm not the best judge on things like that. What if I tell you to get the wrong one?"

"If it's one you like, it won't be the wrong one," she said, voice breathy and full of promise.

Jim grabbed his wallet. "Then let's go," he said.

 _And we could even stop at the hardware store,_ Melinda thought, taking her purse and slinging it over herself, crossbody. _And talk to Pete about grills and what brands he recommends. Jim'll be so drunk on seeing me in bikinis he'll go along with whatever I say in order to get me home again._

* * *

Home again, Melinda was carrying three shopping bags and Jim was carrying a box with an assemble-yourself grill.

"Maybe we should have driven," she suggested innocently.

Jim merely grunted as he finally dropped the box. "Mel, there's one thing I'm confused about," he said, pushing the door behind him closed with his foot.

"What's that, honey?"

"Why didn't you just tell me that you wanted a new grill instead of sabotaging me last winter from putting it away correctly and today from repairing it?" He asked, stepping over to her.

She dropped the bags. "Jim, I would never—"

With one tug, the tie holding her sundress up was untied and she vainly grabbed at the material before letting it drop.

"You owe me a penalty," he breathed, and scooped her up into his arms. "Especially after making me watch you in those bathing suits. God, Melinda."

She giggled, just glad that he was dropping the topic of the grill.

He carried her up, up, up to bed. And after that, he took her even higher.


	26. Sweaters (Day 1) (Part I)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: As another quick note, here is where I try something new...

All credit goes to SnowCollection on DeviantArt. This is his/her/their 30 Day Winter Challenge.

Day One: Sweaters

* * *

Melinda pulled a tank top over her head and smoothed it down her body, pulling it down so she could tuck it into her pants. Sometimes she completely embraced the low slung pants trend, but sometimes you just wanted a bit more coverage.

Especially now, when it was below 30 degrees outside and she was, unfortunately, about to go on a wild (ghost) goose chase with Professor Rick Payne.

He was still on the line; she'd placed him on speaker phone.

"And listen, we need to make sure that Lily talks to you and doesn't even see me," Rick finished.

"You know, there are an uncanny amount of people in your life that just plain don't like you," Melinda said, going to the closet and looking at her sweaters. Let's see. There was a creamy white one...no, that wasn't warm enough.

Royal blue. Too fancy for tromping around in the snow. She didn't want to get it messed up.

Green. Too Christmassy. That season was over.

Red. Same. Or too Valentine-sy, and hopefully that season wouldn't start for a good 'nother month.

Pink...too feminine for how she was feeling right now.

She grabbed a polka dot sweater, a black one with hard white, green and yellow polka-bumps spread out all over it. It was warm and soft and she nuzzled her face in it for a moment before realizing that Rick was speaking again.

"Melinda, are you listening to me?"

"Of course," she responded.

"Repeat back anything I just said."

She could hear him driving and wanted to warn him that using a cell phone in a car (on a night like this) was extremely dangerous.

"Um..." She pulled the sweater over her head, enjoying the way it clung to her body in all the right places. "Are you listening to me."

He huffed out a breath of air. "No, no, Melinda. Before that."

"I have to admit, I got a little distracted."

There was a moment of suspicious silence. "Doing what?"

"Getting dressed," she said baldly, and let him imagine the worst.

"In what?" He asked. "That black and red dress?"

"I'm not playing this game with you, Rick," she sighed and picked up the phone, switching speaker off. "You'll be here in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"I'm actually here right now, and if I look up, will I see your unclad form in the window?"

"No," she said flatly.

He sighed heavily. "I'm not actually here right now. Damn, I wish I was. No, fifteen sounds correct."

"See you then," she said, about to hang up.

"Melinda?" He rushed to say.

"Yeah?" She asked, picking up her hair brush.

"Thank you for doing this for me," Rick said and the phone in her hand went dead. Typical Rick. Express any sort of sincerity and he ran for the hills, even when he was the one sincerity expressing.

"Babe, it's a bad night out there," Jim said from the doorway, from where he'd only just walked up the stairs.

Melinda looked over at him. "I know, I'm putting on two layers of pants and I've got this sweater and I'll be wearing that huge fleece coat you got me."

"No, I mean drivingwise," he said, walking into the room. "I don't want you driving in this weather."

"Rick will be the one driving," she told him, walking to her closet.

Jim covered his eyes with one hand momentarily. "Um, Mel, did you honestly think that would make me feel _better_?"

Melinda burst out laughing as she tugged her heaviest and furriest boots onto her feet. "I'm sorry, babe," she chortled, losing her grip on the boot. "But your voice just then..."

He stared down at her. "It's really not funny," he related, sitting down beside her on the floor.

"I know," she said, finishing tugging on the boots. She reached her hand up and cupped his cheek in her palm. "I promise I will come back safe. And look here, I dug out those old radios."

"Seriously?" Jim asked, standing to look at the box on her bed.

"I had a feeling, after I talked to Rick earlier, that something like this would come up," Melinda said, standing up with him. "I plugged them in and they should be all charged up."

Jim sighed.

"One for you, one for me, and Rick," Melinda amended.

Jim didn't move.

She wrapped her arms around him from behind. "I _promise_ you, I will come back alive," she whispered.

"But can you promise uninjured?" Jim asked gloomily.

"If anything happens, Rick will be there," Melinda swore. "And I've got these radios."

"Just promise me that you two won't separate, for anything," Jim said. "I hate even _asking_ that, considering who I'm talking about, but I don't want one of you wandering off and freezing to death and the other person goes after them and they die too."

"You're certainly Mr. Sunshine this evening," she mumbled into his back and tightened her grip on him...she knew where he was coming from.

"I don't want to see something like the Carrios again," he whispered, his voice suddenly tight. "Please, Mel."

"I know," she returned. "I know where you're coming from and I swear I wouldn't normally do this, but these are extenuating circumstances."

He lifted one hand to press a kiss to the back of it. "They're always extenuating circumstances when it's you," he whispered, and turned in her arms.

Their kiss was long and tender. Melinda felt Jim's hands on her hips and he was lifting her into his arms, holding her flush against him. "I love you," he whispered, breaking the kiss.

"I love you more," she said and pressed her lips to his.

It lasted until there was a loud honk outside. Melinda groaned and broke away from him. "I've got to get to work now," she said. "At my _night_ job."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do a good job, and come home safe," he called as she scrambled down the stairs and pulled on hat, coat and mittens.

Rick was banging on the door and she dashed to let him in. "You ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Then why did you leave me waiting in the car?" He complained.

Melinda just shook her head. "Ready to go, now," she said, but Rick halted her.

"You're missing a scarf," he said. "Don't you own one?"

She almost didn't believe it. A man like Rick noticed when she was missing a scarf.

Who knew.

"I'll got get one," she promised, but Rick suddenly pulled his own off. "This one is prewarmed," he said, literally slinging her around the neck with it and tying it in a double knot. "Let's go," he said, opened the door and pulled her out into the cold world.

* * *

A/N: There are a myriad of prompts on this list. I promise I'll get back to this storyline during this winter challenge, but it'll be something down the road considering that tomorrow is snowball fights...and I know you can pick and choose but gosh, I like to do things in order.


	27. Snowball Fight (Day 2)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

All credit goes to SnowCollection on DeviantArt. This is his/her/their 30 Day Winter Challenge.

DayTwo: Snowball Fight

* * *

Melinda shook her head. "This is just not going to happen, Jim," she declared, hands on her hips.

"Come on, Mel, just bear with me," he said.

The night before, due to heavy snowfall and high winds, a huge branch had broken off of a tree in the back yard. Now it was Jim's brilliant idea for he and Melinda to clear up the mess themselves.

They had been hauling wood for over thirty minutes and the difference in the yard was only barely discernable. Melinda's back was starting to get a crick in it as she dropped the stick she was holding.

Jim met her eyes as his arms strained to pick up an especially large piece of wood. "Mel, we can't afford it," he said patiently.

"Yeah, we can, if we use the month's profits from my store," she protested.

He looked up at her after dropping the wood. "No, Mel. That needs to be saved, you know that."

Melinda held back a sigh. It was true. Using the profits could lead to financial trouble in the future. But doing this chore themselves could leave them both with permanently sore backs.

"Jim, I think it'd be worth it," she said.

"You're just tired," he said. "And it's fine if you go inside and take a break."

Melinda resisted a heavy sigh. "I'm not going to leave you out here alone," she grumbled and started to work again. The cold air stung her face but she was sweating from the effort of moving the wood.

The snow was piled high around her feet, tucked into warm boots. She moved across the yard and grabbed more sticks, carrying them to the pile they were making with plans of having a bonfire of sorts in the spring. Or when it was dry enough.

She placed the sticks there and sighed again, turning to see Jim toiling away with a saw, trying to cut the huge branch into smaller pieces so they could be moved.

She leaned down and surreptitiously packed a snowball in her hands. The snow only just retained its shape, so not the best weather for snowballs or snowmen but at least it would hold for the moment it was airborne.

She threw it and then turned around to face the woodpile, bending quickly down.

She heard Jim's exclamation and could almost feel his eyes on her.

"What happened?" She asked, whirling around.

"A snowball...just flew out of nowhere," Jim said suspiciously.

"Maybe it dropped from above," she said innocently, walking forward to brush the snow off of his coat. He looked up at the tree above him, considering it.

"I guess it could have," he said, frowning.

"Come on, hurry up," she said and he looked at her as she went back to get more sticks.

This time she waited until his back was turned. It hit him with an audible thump and she almost dived under her pile of sticks. He whirled around.

"Melinda?" He questioned.

"Yeah?" She answered.

He didn't say anything else, but she felt his suspicious eyes on her as she picked up another stick.

She walked back over to the pile, dropped her load and that was when she felt it...a snowball hitting her square on her ass. She jerked to attention and turned around to see Jim, studiously sawing away at his tree.

She narrowed her eyes at him. So that was how it was going to be.

She walked back over, and the second she bent down to grab more sticks, another snowball hit her back. She filled both hands with snow and let them fly.

Jim dodged them; his eyes were sparkling as he looked over at her. "We've certainly got misgrown trees on our property," he commented, momentarily shoving his hands in his pockets.

"We certainly do," she agreed,

They regarded each other with suspicion, and by their eyes made a momentary truce. Melinda took several loads to the pile and Jim made much progress on the whole branch, separating it into several pieces.

Melinda ambled towards him, and he glanced at her.

"You have a stick behind you," she commented.

He made the mistake of believing her and she slipped snow down the back of his shirt.

He cursed, jerking his hands up to brush it out and turned to face her, fire in his eyes.

"What?" She asked, but her laughter more than gave her away.

He lunged forward and she tried to run, but she tripped and fell over one of the several sticks littering the yard. Jim dived on top of her and she was soon being given a face wash in the snow. She was laughing so hard she didn't even care.

Jim lying on top of her, he carefully eased off. "Do you give in?" He demanded. "We have to get this done."

"Babe, there will be more weekends," Melinda said. "Lots more weekends to complete this."

He looked down at her, and his face softened.

She reached for the zipper on her coat. "I can think of a lot of things I'd like to that aren't clear the yard," she whispered.

"So can I," Jim said and stood up. "Saw logs."

She watched in disappointment as he returned to his chainsawing, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. When was the last time Jim had truly said no?

"Well, I guess I'll go inside after all; take a break," she said softly.

She saw him nod and she turned to go inside, when a snowball whizzed past her head.

She turned around and Jim was completely doubled over in laughter. "Oh, _now_ you're going to get it," she shrieked and sent a barrage of snowballs his way.

When they were finally done fighting, maybe five minutes later, maybe five hours, he gathered her into his arms and pressed a hot kiss to her lips. "Let's take this inside," he said, unzipping her coat the rest of the way. "I don't have a bearskin rug but I do have a fire."

"So do I," she whispered. "And its name is Love."

* * *

A/N: LOL, _Love_ Hewitt? Get it?


	28. Hot Chocolate (Day 3)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day Three: Hot Chocolate/Hot Drinks

A/N: I'm currently listening to My Type by Saint Motel. So that should give you some clues into this chapter.

* * *

Jim leaned on the bar, his arm muscles bulging. The women in the room, discreetly sat in booths or lurking by the pool tables, made more mental notes as they watched him.

"Listen, pal, all I'm asking is, have you seen a short, brunette woman come in here?" He asked the bartender impatiently.

"I get a lot of short brunettes in here, you'll have to be more specific," the redheaded and freckled man replied.

"She would have asked a lot of weird questions," Jim added.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Was she stacked? And, fuck, do I mean stacked, and with an ass to boot."

Jim's jaw clenched. "That sounds like her, but I'm going to mention here that she's my wife before I have to bash your head in."

The man's eyes narrowed even more. "Go ahead and try," he said coolly.

"It's not worth it, Jim," Rick piped up and Jim jerked around, remembering only now that the professor was here with him. "I believe the question was, did you see her?"

"I did," the man grunted, looking between them. Rick was wearing very dark sunglasses (to cover up a black eye) but they succeeded only in making him look thuggish...which was actually a good thing in this situation...a very good thing.

"So where is she?" Rick demanded, placing a hand on Jim's tense forearm.

"She left," he replied. "Out that door. I suggest you follow suit."

Rick had to physically pull Jim away from the bar. "Come on, lover boy, we'll find her," he assured the man, opening the door and ushering them outside into the cold air. Their breaths showed and Jim abruptly pulled away from Rick.

Rick threw up his hands. "Whatever. That's what I get for helping."

"Are you kidding me? You're the one who sent her on this goose chase," Jim snapped.

"No, she sent herself, I just pointed her in the right direction," Rick corrected. "Why are you even worrying about it? Melinda's always come home fine before now."

Jim's eyes darkened. "Since you've known her," he said grimly.

Rick straightened. "Was there a time that she didn't come home?" He asked.

"Her car...there was an accident, she...almost didn't revive," Jim said quietly as they walked away from the bar.

"Oh, god, Jim," Rick said heavily. "I didn't know."

Jim scraped his hair off of his forehead. "Yeah, well," he sighed. "You're right. Nothing could have stopped her."

"It's snowing," Rick said morosely.

Jim sighed. "It is."

They walked down the street in silence. "Where are we even going? It's not like we can ask the ghosts where she went," Rick said, bringing them to a halt.

"Let's continue investigating bars," Jim said, shoving his gloveless hands into his pockets. "She was helping a waitress who worked at a bar, right? She just didn't know which one, so we're definitely in her footsteps right now." He frowned. "The thing is, that was the last bar in Grandview."

"No, it wasn't," Rick said.

"Yeah, it was," Jim said.

"No, there's a new one," Rick said. "A...nasty one."

Jim's eyes narrowed.

" _Wild Nights_ ," Rick said. "It opened way over on the north side of town. It's a high end place with...too many girls."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Jim commented, starting towards his pickup, which was parked in the square.

"One of my students worked there, she had a hard time getting out," Rick said, following Jim's lead as the man broke into a run. "Whoa, hold up!"

"If you can't keep up, stay behind," Jim shouted.

"What happened to no man left behind?" Rick complained, but did indeed double his pace.

Jim jumped into the driver's seat and Rick had only just scrambled into the passenger's side when Jim spun away from the curb, wheels squealing.

"It's snowing, be careful!" Rick shouted, but Jim's response was to slam his foot on the gas pedal.

"Where's this place?" Jim asked, making a left.

"You're on the right track, just keep going," Rick said.

* * *

When they walked into Wild Nights, Jim's first thought was horror.

The women were barely wearing anything. His heart went out to the women who were forced into these jobs even as his jeans became tighter. God, sometimes he hated being a man.

"What can I do for you?" The maitre'd cooed, her breasts almost falling out of her corset-like top.

"Have you—" Jim began when Rick slapped him in the chest.

"We'd like a table," Rick corrected.

"What?" Jim hissed as the woman started to a table.

"I saw Melinda," Rick said. "Stay calm."

Jim's head almost jerked off of his neck in an effort to see what Rick was talking about but the man in front of him just kept walking, even turning around to glare at Jim as if to ask what the hold up was.

And then Jim's heart stopped.

"Can I get you a drink?" Another waitress asked as they were settled at their table.

"Hot chocolate," a female voice interrupted. "I'll take care of these guys, Rory, if you could get the chocolate."

Rory walked away and then Melinda was looking down at them. "Hi."

"What the hell?" Jim hissed.

"Keep quiet, Rory's coming back with the cocoa," Melinda said, sitting down.

Neither man could take their eyes off of her. She was wearing little more than lingerie, pitifully covered by an open...robe...thing.

"What are you doing?" Jim asked.

"I'm helping someone," Melinda hissed as Rory placed three hot chocolates on the table.

Rick couldn't help but take a sip and he choked on the first mouthful. "What the hell is in this?"

"A mixture of whiskey and bourbon," Melinda said. "Sorry, I should have warned you."

"No, it's good," Rick said, his voice sounding strained.

Jim noticed that the man's eyes were literally _glued_ to the expanse of breast exposed on Melinda and he elbowed him rather harshly just as Rick took another drink, so he choked on his second one too.

"See on the stage?" Melinda asked, raising an arm to point.

Jim felt faint at seeing what the motion did to her decolletage.

Rick choked for a third time on his cocoa.

"That's Lena," Melinda said. "My ghost, Penny, is her sister. She can't cross over because her sister is still working here, because she's trying to pay back one of Penny's debts. It makes sense, right?"

"I wouldn't leave behind my sister here," Rick agreed.

"Exactly," Melinda said. "But I had to blend in a bit. I got a waitress to go home sick and I'm the replacement she sent in. I just need to get close to Lena. Then I'm leaving forever, with Lena."

"I don't like this," Jim said, rubbing his forehead.

"I gotta go," Melinda said, standing up.

Jim reached out to stop her, trying to grab her hand but he wasn't quick enough.

"Hands to yourself," a man growled behind him. "You have to pay extra to touch."

Jim felt something like road rage rise up in him, almost completely clouding his vision. He only came out of it because of Rick's steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Stay calm," Rick counselled. "Melinda's already talking to Lena. We'll be out of here any second."

"I can't stay calm," Jim said and buried his face in his hands, feeling like the bar crowd was burning him.

"We'll be out of here in plenty of time," Rick assured him. "And then you can take your wife home with you."

Jim wasn't imagining the hint of bitterness in Rick's voice. "Well, maybe you can take Lena home," he shot back.

"Very funny," Rick said. "No, I think I'll have to stick around here if I want to get any satisfaction tonight."

Jim lifted his own cup of cocoa to his lips and promptly burned the top of his throat when he saw Melinda walk onto the stage. "This isn't happening," he whispered.

Rick, next to him, was even tenser than he was.

The whole crowd seemed to have fallen silent as Melinda approached the pole.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Jim said and stood up. He felt Rick's arms and hands desperately try to hold him back but he could see nothing but his wife's body, undulating on stage before fifty or so randy men.

Her hips were moving in ways that he wasn't sure _he'd_ known they could. He could feel Rick holding him back and it was the only reason he hadn't put put the eyes of every man in the room from their witnessing it.

He had no idea what Melinda's plan was but it was going to drive him to an early grave.

And then suddenly it was over. Melinda was scrambling off of the stage and talking to Lena. Jim was gratified to see that the beefy guard was again standing guard over Melinda and keeping the drooling men feet away.

Finally, Melinda led Lena over to their table. "Jim, Rick, this is Lena."

She saw the scene; Rick was still holding Jim's shoulder in a white knuckled grip.

"Jim is my husband,, Rick is my friend," Melinda explained.

Lena was a doe eyed _young_ woman with long, coltish legs and an innocence still somehow clinging to her that would have made Jim's heart ache if other parts of his anatomy weren't in such pain right now from staring at his wife.

"Hello," Lena said softly. "Um."

"We're going to leave now," Melinda said.

She led the way. Jim threw a bill on the table and heard a mild curse fall from Rick's lips as they hurried to follow Melinda... The sway of her hips led them forward like they were on a string.

The guard approached. "Where are you going? Your shifts aren't over."

"We quit," Melinda stated. "Lena and I."

"Not going to happen," the guard stated, placing a beefy hand tight around Melinda's upper arm.

Jim stepped forward. "You'll be paying with a lot if you touch my wife like that again."

"Wife?" The guard sneered. "This whorw?"

This time Rick didn't hold him back. He might even have pushed Jim forward.

Jim's fist collided with the guard's jaw with a loud crack.

Rick, in a rare moment of athletic coordination took out the next guard who was approaching them from behind.

In the next moment, as all hell broke loose, Melinda seemed to say something and then the lights went out. He felt Melinda's hand grip his hand. "Get Rick," she hissed. "Penny is leading us out safely."

Jim wildly fumbled behind him and grabbed Rick by the cuff as Melinda walked confidently forward, leaving them to follow through the pitch black darkness.

* * *

They were finally outside, running to Jim's pickup.

"We can come back later for my car," Melinda shouted.

They jumped into the pickup, forgetting that it didn't have a back seat. Jim found that Lena was almost in his lap and he didn't even want to know what Melinda's situation was with Rick as he drove from the parking lot with squealing tires.

Looking at his companions' state of undress, Jim turned the heat way up...though at this point he felt like he could heat the truck himself.

It was a long moment before Melinda spoke. "I'm sorry?" She offered. "And thank you so much for following. I don't know what would have happened if you two weren't there."

"We can finish this conversation later," Jim said, wanting to look at her but when he turned his head he only got an eyeful of Lena's cleavage so he turned quickly back to face the road.

"I'd like to know something," Rick said. "Where's Lena staying?"

"Are you offering?" Melinda snapped.

"I'm right here, you know," Lena said. "And I didn't ask to be rescued."

"I thought you believed me when I told you that Penny sent me," Melinda said.

"I do. But you didn't have to bust me out of there like that," Lena said. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"You don't sound grateful," Rick said.

"Penny told me that you needed money, to pay one of her debts she left when she died," Melinda said. "I can lend you the amount, Lena. I don't want you going back there. And neither does Penny. That was why we left like that."

"I know," Lena said. "But there's something that I don't think Penny would have told you."

"And what would that be?" Melinda asked.

"We're trust fund kids, our parents are the Lilands," Lena said.

There was dead silence.

"Like the millionaires? In NYC?" Jim asked.

Lena nodded miserably. "Penny didn't want our parents to find out. Dad would have...I know that she wouldn't want him to have those kind of memories of her. She already felt so guilty."

"Was it a drug habit?" Melinda asked.

"No, not at all," Lena corrected. "She did something stupid one summer."

"Ah, it was a guy," Rick said. "A secret baby."

"It was a girl, another rich girl who's now married. Penny was being blackmailed," Lena said flatly.

More silence. "This is complicated," Melinda said.

"Yeah," Lena said.

"You can stay with us tonight," Melinda finally said. "We can figure out what to do in the morning."

Jim heard Melinda's words and he almost groaned.

* * *

When they dropped off Rick, Jim wasn't sure what to say to the man who'd probably saved his neck this evening... And seen his wife nearly naked pole dancing.

He rolled open his window as Rick walked past. "Thank you," he settled on but the rawness in his voice clued Rick in and the man waved goodbye.

* * *

A/N: the first version of this chapter was very definitely MA and can be found on AO3. My username there is Meowser_Hotchner and the title is Spin Me Around. The extended version of this chapter is chapter one, but I actually decided to do a whole story based on this idea, only published on AO3.

Not sure how I strayed so far from the original prompt of hot chocolate but I'm not complaining... Are you? I think my inner self's love of Road To movies took over this whole thing.

This is another storyline I can see myself returning to.


	29. Books (Day 4)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day Four: Books

* * *

Melinda rolled over onto her stomach.

"Mel, what are you doing?" Jim called.

"I'm just trying to finish this chapter," she called back.

She heard him walking down the stairs. "You've been saying that since dinner ended," he complained. "It's almost ten now."

"I know, but I so rarely get time to read, and Therese Snow is one of my favorite authors," Melinda said.

"What does she write? What's the plot? What is more important than coming to bed with me on this cold winter's night?" He demanded, coming to sit next to her in front of the electric heater that pretended to be a roaring fire.

"It's a romance novel," Melinda said. "It's about a British girl named Eliza. She's working as a nanny for this man with a young daughter and mysterious things keep happening."

"Like what?" He wondered, tracing a line with his finger up her back.

"Eliza keeps receiving mysterious letters, telling her to get out," Melinda said. "I know it's not that unique of a plot but the author truly knows how to keep the reader on her toes. And besides that..." She smiled slyly. "The love scenes are a little awesome."

"What kind of love scenes?" Jim asked.

"I can read it," Melinda said, flipping back.

"You dogeared the page it was on?" He demanded.

"A girl's got to do something when her husband is out on his shift," Melinda said. "Here we go. _It was dark in the house. Eliza was still convinced she'd heard a noise so she slipped into the master's study, her footsteps making almost no sound in the still night. Was there anyone in here? Could she find out who had been threatening her?_

 _She stepped forward and suddenly felt a hand over her mouth. She was being captured._

 _"Don't make a move, thief," a voice hissed in her ear._

 _It was the master's voice. Eliza startled, moving even more. The master's hand came to clutch at her, trying to still her. Suddenly, petrifyingly, his hand was placed on her breast, through her wool nightgown._

 _Eliza froze under his touch._

 _"It's Eliza, the nurse," she whispered through his hand._

 _She couldn't tell whether he'd heard her. His hand was still holding her breast tightly._

 _And then it fell away. "What on earth are you doing, creeping around?" He demanded._

 _"I heard a sound," she whispered. "I came to investigate. I've been getting mysterious letters slipped under my door and I thought that the culprit might be wandering around."_

 _He moved to light a match. She could his face now, and he could no doubt see hers as he lit the candles on his desk._

 _"So you've been getting them too," he said grimly. "I've been out of my mind with worry."_

 _Eliza stepped forward as the master covered his face with his big hand. "I don't think you need to worry," she whispered._

 _"You are sweet to say so," he said._

 _"It has been months, and they have not yet acted," Eliza said._

 _"What did your letters say exactly?" He asked._

 _"That...I had better not initiate relations with you," Eliza said, feeling her face heat._

 _"What? Why would that happen?" He demanded. He grabbed her arms in his and pulled her closer._

 _"It wouldn't," she cried._

 _"No," he reflected. "You would never. I, however, might be tempted."_

 _His gaze roamed over her body. She could feel parts of her anatomy stir to life in an alarming manner._

 _"You are a beautiful woman, Eliza," he whispered._

 _"Am I?" She asked hesitantly._

 _He answered by kissing her._

 _She moved into the embrace, only wanting to bring their bodies closer. Finally. After months, their relationship of forbidden touches and wild encounters in barns and bathtubs...finally he was holding her._

"Barns and bathtubs?" Jim interrupted.

"There was a really hot scene where he saw her in the bathtub," Melinda assured him, skipping to that page.

"Wait," Jim protested.

 _He opened the door and was shocked to see that someone was already occupying it...a nude someone. Her back arched as she soaped herself, and he could barely stand to look below there._

 _He stepped forward, into the room, and she turned to see who it was._

 _Eliza. It was Eliza, facing him, completely nude. Her breasts were perfectly shaped—_

"What are you doing?" Melinda asked, since Jim was in the process of unbuttoning her shirt.

"Getting myself a little atmosphere," he said.

 _Her nippes were dusky. They looked sweet. Would they be sweet?_

"Research," Jim said. "Someone has to help this poor guy out."

He leaned down and placed his mouth on her nipple.

"Jim, stop," she said, flushed.

"What, you're reading to get you horny, but Mel, I can do that," Jim said, his hand creeping up her thigh. "Without quite so many words."

 _Her thighs were long, white, smooth. His eyes were caught by the hair that covered the v in her legs._

"What was this writer on when she wrote this?" Jim asked, easing Melinda's loose pants down her hips.

"Stop it," she whispered, but her grip on the book started to lessen.

 _The thatch of hair beckoned to him, telling him to discover its secrets._

"Okay, just stop there, your 'patch of hair' has never beckoned me like that," Jim said.

He threw the book across the room.

Melinda looked up at him.

"Did you just throw away my book?"

"I really did," Jim said, swinging her up into his arms. She was fully nude now and Jim decided he liked his wife this way.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he carried her up the stairs.

"Not to a barn, a bathtub or a study," Jim said. "We're going to bed. Without a book."

Melinda gave in, nuzzling his neck with her lips. "He had nothing on you anyway," she whispered. "Absolutely nothing."


	30. Ice Skating (Day 5)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day Five: Ice Skating

* * *

Melinda took another, hesitant, step, moving onto the ice. Her ankles were shaking and suddenly, frighteningly, the world flew out from under her and she landed on her butt again.

"Damn it!" She cursed as Jim skated over, like poetry in motion.

"You okay?" He asked, leaning down to help her up.

"How many times have we done this now?" She wondered, gripping his hand tightly as he pulled her to standing again.

Jim shrugged. "Five, ten, who's counting?"

"I am, and it's sixteen now," Melinda said. "Can we go now?"

"I'm having fun," Jim said, skating away from her backwards and she wanted to kill him. "You can go by the bonfire, babe."

"You know, I might just break up with you," she shouted back and walked to the bonfire with careful, clipped steps. God, she hated things like this. It was so unlike Jim to be acting like this, and she _knew_ that even if she and Jim had only been dating for five months. She _knew_ him. Why was he acting like a jerk? Because of what had happened last night with his mother?

Melinda shuddered to remember it. It was the worst 'meet my parent' in the history of 'meet my parent'. She couldn't even count how many times she had said the wrong thing...and she'd worn completely the wrong thing too. Why did Jim have to be so clueless when it came to clothes? Couldn't he tell her what his mother meant by formal?

No. He couldn't. Melinda had worn a very pretty vintage dress, and she'd shown up at Faith's party and everyone else was wearing dresses tantamount to ball gowns.

Needless to say, she'd been out of place. So she'd gotten embarrassed, and as the evening wore on, angry. So she'd yelled at Jim.

He hadn't taken it well, saying that he was just as stressed, and now they were ice skating on the pond in his freaking home town surrounded by people who knew how to skate and Melinda was about to twist her ankle.

"You okay?" A redhead asked, skating over.

"I hate skating, but my boyfriend isn't ready to leave and he's got the keys," Melinda said.

"Who's your guy?" She asked.

"Jim Clancy," Melinda said.

The girl whistled. "Damn, you're out of luck. If Felicia is here, Jim isn't leaving until he's made her jealous."

"Felicia?" Melinda questioned.

"A high school sweetheart, an on again, off again romance," the redhead answered. "I'm Tammy."

"Hi," Melinda said wearily. "Melinda."

"Oh, I know," Tammy answered. "I guess I recognize you now. You were at Faith's party last night."

"I was," Melinda said, voice tight.

A guy skated up behind Tammy and spirited her away. "TTYL, Melinda," Tammy called as she skated away with what was probably her boyfriend.

Melinda sat miserably by the bonfire and tried not to watch Jim as he skated effortlessly over the ice, how he seemed to keep passing the same girl, over and over.

A very tall girl, very slender girl whose clothes seemed to be ordered straight from Ralph Lauren or whatever label was hottest.

Melinda sighed and looked down at her own clothes, old in every sense of the word. That's what vintage meant.

A guy approached her then. "Hey, how are you?" He asked, skating to a stop.

"Not so good," she answered.

"You came with Jim, right?" He asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"I'm Luke, and you must be Melinda," Luke said.

"Guilty," she sighed.

"Do you want to skate with me?" He asked. "I hate to see anyone sitting on the outskirts."

"Not really," she said, but he was taking her hands and tugging her up. "Come on."

He was skating backwards, leading her, something that Jim had tried to do at the beginning of the afternoon but had given up on a long time ago.

Melinda skated hesitantly forward, then out of the corner of her eye saw Jim make another pass by Felicia.

Oh hell. She was going to be the best skater here.

"Give me some tips," she begged. "I really want to be on my own by the end of this."

Luke's face lit up. "You got it!" He exclaimed. "Come here, I'll show you."

Melinda followed his expert lead and was soon gliding across the ice fairly well, and even enjoying herself. He urged her on and she glided on one foot. This was easy! This was fun!

And then she crashed into someone. And someone was Jim.

"Hey," she exclaimed. "Jim, Luke was teaching me."

"And succeeding," Jim said slowly, looking at Luke until the other guy skated away.

"Bye, Mel," he called.

"Mel?" Jim asked in disbelief. "You let him call you Mel?"

"He just called me it now," Melinda said, skating away from Jim but his hand was still on her arm. "Besides, you were the one making eyes at Felicia."

Jim's face reddened. "Maybe I was showing off," he admitted after a moment. "But only because my girlfriend wouldn't skate with me, wouldn't even talk to me after last night."

"I was trying to talk but you were just talking about the fundamentals of skating and it made no freaking sense," Melinda retorted.

Jim grabbed her hand and led her off the ice. "We're going," he said.

"Finally," Melinda bit back. "I was ready to leave half an hour ago...before Luke approached me."

As they walked through the woods, Jim didn't speak. They were probably still half a mile from the car.

"So this is my fault?" He asked finally. "That you skated with Luke?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"How about that you only cooperated when he was teaching you? Was that my fault too?"

"Is it _my_ fault if you're a crap teacher?" Melinda shouted back.

Jim stopped, swung her by the wrist into his arms and stared down at her, gaze intense. "Do you really think that?" He demanded, his breath showing in the cold air.

"I...I don't know," she said, feeling her eyes fill. "Why were you so callous? I was embarrassed last night and you didn't even care."

Jim flushed. "Oh, god, Mel. I'm sorry," he said. "Last night...you looked so hot...I had a really bad boner all evening, and you were complaining that your dress wasn't right. Mel, it was."

She stared at him. "And today?"

"That color is amazing on you," Jim said, and then leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers and slid his hand to the front of her jacket. As they kissed, he unzipped it, and then pulled away. "Let's go deeper into the woods, get some privacy," he panted, then paused, as though he were afraid what she'd say.

"Okay," she whispered. "But we're going to talk about this later."

"Of course," he said, his hand gripping hers as they went off the trail.

Once far away enough, Jim settled her onto the snow and leaned over her. "I love you," he said fiercely. "And you looked beautiful last night. And I'm sorry for today. I just felt messed up and it was an off day."

"I understand," she told him. "I do. Now kiss me."

* * *

A/N: Well, what's a relationship without some fights? Besides, this is a young Jimel so I think it's realistic. I do think I went a bit OOC. I don't know.


	31. Parkas-Big Jackets (Day 6)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day Six: Parkas/Big Jackets

A/N: This is something I've never tried before, for the same reasons that Mel resisted it.

* * *

Melinda tried, for the millionth time it seemed, to get the jacket to zip.

And it still wouldn't.

She hated maternity clothes that didn't live up to their name.

"It's not zipping," she said, feeling hormones rise and tears come to her eyes. That was another _benefit_ of being pregnant. Crying at the drop of a hat, or the stuckness of a zipper.

"Jim, I can't get it," she called, and he emerged from the hotel bathroom.

"Still?" He frowned and stepped forward, messing with the zipper for her. "But this is maternity. We picked it out before the trip specifically."

"That's what, $200 just blown on something that doesn't fit?" Melinda said, feeling the tears begin to overflow.

"Mel, it's okay," he said. "I can run to Wal-Mart or something and get you a plus sized parka. We won't be late."

"But I picked this out so I'd actually look good," Melinda stressed. "After feeling like a boat, I was going to look good at Pell's wedding."

"It's okay," Jim soothed. "Your dress looks amazing."

"But my coat doesn't and it's really cold out," Melinda said, and found herself crying. She hated this. She hated how she just couldn't stop crying.

"I know, I know," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "It's tough. Just let me go buy you a different coat, okay? We'll make it through this."

"Okay," she finally whispered back, her voice catching. She had moved into the annoying stage where you'd been crying so long that you couldn't breathe properly and you spoke in stops and starts.

"I'll be back in five minutes, Wal-Mart isn't even across the interstate," Jim soothed. "Why don't you order room service or something?"

"So I can be fatter than ever?" Melinda asked to an empty room after Jim had left, dressed in a very nice wool coat she'd ordered for him.

Damn it. Why hadn't she checked the freaking size before they left?

She grabbed the phone. "Can I place an order for room service?" She managed. "Green tea. And...and a cinnamon roll. Thank you."

She felt better already at the thought of a cinnamon roll. This was so utterly beyond bizarre. When did she ever truly want pastries? Why did the mere _thought_ of sugar boost her mood?

There was finally a knock at the door and Melinda flew to it. "Thank you," she said, pressing a five dollar bill into the server's hand and letting the door swing close behind them.

Beautiful. Fragrant. Ambrosial.

Delicious.

Melinda let the first bite hit her tongue and wanted to moan from pleasure. The sugar was sticky and warm, and the raisins burst as she bit into it.

Her favorite. The only thing she ever wanted to eat again.

Jim opened the door when she was halfway through it. "Whoa, you look better," he said cautiously, holding two coats.

"I feel better," she said. "This cinnamon roll is orgasmic."

"Good," he said, his voice truly pleased.

"Take a bite," she urged. "Just a small one."

"Okay, sure," he said. "Just let me wash my hands."

"Just take a bite from my hands," she said impatiently and he nibbled off a piece.

"It's one of the best I've ever tasted," he admitted.

She popped the rest into her mouth. "I know," she sighed. "Okay. Let me wash _my_ hands and then I'll try on the coats."

She heaved herself to her feet, steering around her protruding stomach, and quickly washed her hands and turned to the coats.

Jim just looked away.

She looked down.

If it hadn't been for the sugar, she'd be crying right now but as it was, she didn't care enough.

"The only options, huh?" She asked.

"I guess they're starting to not restock," Jim said.

The two coats were hideous. Puffy and neon.

Melinda tried the first on; it was huge. Too huge.

The second fit _almost_ nicely. And it zipped.

Melinda shrugged. "It'll do," she sighed.

"You don't mind?" Jim asked cautiously.

"It's just a coat, I'll take it off once I get inside the church and reception hall anyway," she said softly and walked up to him. "Thank you for going out to get them."

"I'm just glad one of them was okay," he whispered back and placed his hands on her hips.

She placed her own arms around his neck (it was even more difficult now, and it had never been an easy task considering their difference in height).

"Let's go," she said. "But first you have to kiss me."

He leaned far down, standing far away because of her stomach. Melinda giggled when he started to pull away and she turned to see their reflection in the mirror.

"I look ridiculous," she stated simply. "Like a polar bear wearing an overcoat, which a polar bear would never need."

"I don't know, I think you look kind of cute," Jim said, studying her in the mirror before turning back to the real woman. "I could wear the other coat," he suggested slyly. "I always thought that lime green was kind of my color anyway."

"No," she said flatly. "No, no, and no. One of us has to look decent."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room before he could continue to tease.

* * *

"You do look decent," Jim reminded as they pulled up in front of the church: St. Mary and the Angels.

"I really don't," Melinda said. "But whatever."

"You're right, you don't look decent," Jim said as he helped her from the vehicle and his response was a very startled, hurt face. He leaned in to nuzzle her nose. "You look beautiful," he told her. "Truly wonderful. Your skin is glowing and your hair is rippling."

She smiled. "I'm not sure I believe you, but thanks anyway," she said as they walked in.

Her intention had been to go straight to a pew and take off the damn coat ASAP but they were later than originally planned because of Jim's trip to Wal-Mart and the only seats were near the front. They followed the usher quickly and Melinda cursed herself for not taking it off in the back of church. Surely they would have had something.

She felt eyes on her all the way up the aisle. For goodness' sake, she wasn't the one getting married!

"I'm going to go die in a hole now," she whispered to Jim when they were finally seated.

"Please don't, Mel," he whispered back, kneeling for a moment. She tried to join him but her stomach made it rather difficult and Melinda, raised Protestant, wasn't used to having kneelers. She sat back down and waited for Jim to sit beside her again.

"Tell me one more time that I didn't look ridiculous going up the aisle in that coat," she said.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think anyone besides you cared," he whispered back.

"It really doesn't, but I'll thank you for an answer to my question," she told him.

"You didn't look ridiculous, you looked pregnant," Jim finally told her.

"Which is almost the same thing."

They rose as the bride entered. Melinda felt tears come to her eyes as she remembered her own wedding day and the emotions she'd then felt.

"She looks beautiful," she enthused, turning to Jim, but he wasn't looking at the bride. He was looking at her.

She felt a sort of peacefulness settle onto her as the ceremony started and Jim slipped his hand into hers. Maybe she hadn't looked ridiculous. Maybe it didn't even matter.

Maybe that Jim, her husband, thought she looked beautiful...maybe that was truly enough.

* * *

A/N: Important note!

I changed the name on AO3 for chapter 28 from Cosmic Law of French Toast Extended Chapters to Spin Me Around and it now has a second chapter. Please check it out and let me know what you think!


	32. Sledding (Day 7)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day 7: Sledding

A/N: So...I'm not going to say that I *like* Eli but I like that his character allows Melinda more freedom and time to do other things (so far in season 4. I've only watched two and a half episodes.) So if he keeps on talking to people and just giving Mel more freedom, I'll adore him. But simply for what he does, not who he is. And of course Payne is my one true love from the show, LOL.

* * *

Melinda looked up and Eli was standing there, a look of panic on his face.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I may have told that old lady over there that her husband is here," Eli said.

"So?" She wondered. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Well, yeah, but then her husband just stopped talking and now she's wondering where he went...she's blind, Melinda. And I don't know how to help her. Do you see any guys hanging around there that could be her suddenly mute husband?"

Melinda shook her head, scanning the snow covered landscape. "I really don't," she said. "These slopes are surprisingly ghost free, considering how many sledding accidents must have happened in however long this hill has been the unofficial sledding hill of Grandview."

She stood up from her sled, inwardly heaving a sigh. She wanted to sled more. She'd been having a surprisingly good time...a really relaxing, joyful time, with all the tickles in your stomach that sledding gives you...she couldn't even remember the last time she'd truly felt like this.

"Don't get up," Eli said. "I mean, I can probably take care of it. I'll just apologize and tell her he left."

"Then get her name so that you can help her later," Melinda said guiltily, settling back down onto her sled.

"Hey, I thought Jim was going to come out here," Eli said. "That's what you told me."

Melinda shrugged. "Well, there's no cell reception out here and Jim knows it. He probably just got stuck at work. There's no end to being a paramedic sometimes, you know."

"I guess," Eli said, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away.

She watched for a moment as he talked to the women, waving his hands animatedly.

Suddenly a man appeared next to him again, whispering in his ear. She saw the change in Eli, and how the old woman suddenly became more animated. It looked like he was handling things fine.

God, she loved having a protege. It gave her so much more time and freedom.

She looked out over the hill: It was a three-sided hill, and she'd picked the one side that wasn't crammed with kids and parents. It was one of the steeper sides; a bit more difficult climb up dissuaded all but the most intrepid sledders from going down it.

And Melinda, who definitely wasn't intrepid, but kind of liked privacy when she did things like this, since she had the tendency to wipe out most humiliatingly. And that was fine, as long as she didn't have half a dozen parents clustering around her asking her if she was okay and then wondering, mentally and occasionally out loud, why a grown woman was sledding in the first place if she didn't have kids.

The thought slammed into her and she looked down at her once prized small waist and flat stomach.

Now she'd give anything to have it be swollen, to never regain that figure, as so many women warned.

But it was worth it, they added as they looked at their kids. Worth it.

Melinda had never thought that she would have fertility problems. Never in a million years. She'd had so many pregnancy scares along the way anyway that it seemed like a given that once they started trying, they'd succeed immediately.

But life didn't work like that. It never did. Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

As Melinda was unfortunately learning.

She coasted down the hill, the wind rushing in her ears. Her stomach tickled in delight and she let out a whoop in spite of wanting to not call attention to herself.

She'd bumped into Eli here quite coincidentally, but it was true that she was waiting for Jim. They'd agreed to meet here and have some snowy fun before going home and having a different kind of fun...the kind of fun that led to babies. Hopefully.

She reached the end without wiping out, inwardly applauded herself, and started back up the hill.

It really was a steep climb, and several moments had you crawling. But Melinda didn't mind. She'd climbed a lot steeper things than this in her life, and always reached the top.

She crested the hill, panting, and saw that Eli had disappeared, along with his companions, spirit and living.

She smiled. He was going to do great. He already was.

She turned back to the hill. The afternoon sun was waning. She realized that it was getting later. The parents and kids were beginning to thin out; now only older kids were sledding the other sides of the hill.

Well, that wasn't too welcome. She didn't really want to be sledding with disgruntled teenagers.

But...maybe one more time.

The sun shone red in the sky, as if a warning sign that its warm light would soon be gone.

Melinda posed the sled again and shoved off.

She knew immediately that she would wipe out. She'd chosen a bad path and she could see the bump that would knock her out. She'd be worried, but, if you wanted to know a secret, she actually had her period currently and knew that she wasn't carrying precious cargo that could potentially be harmed by a fall.

No, it was just her. Just Melinda Gordon. Free falling.

She hit the bump, but her sled didn't do as expected; instead, it flew into the air and for a moment her life was perfect. She felt the race of the wind and the glow of the sun. The snow was crisp and perfect as she thumped back into it and her sled coasted the rest of the way perfectly.

She rolled off of it and lay on her back in the snow, looking up at the sky.

She heard the sound of someone coming down the hill after her, the whoop and the sound of plastic against snow.

She knew that she should move, in case she was in their way, but she could tell, after a point, where they were coming down and knew that they wouldn't reach her.

She closed her eyes tightly, suddenly hearing footsteps in the snow. Hmm. Maybe this traveler thought she'd wiped out and injured herself. She should correct that.

She opened her eyes and Jim was there.

"Okay?" He asked. "I got a little worried when I came here and you were lying at the bottom."

"I rolled off my sled," Melinda told him, accepting the hand to help her up and instead using to tug him down into the snow with her. He landed with an off.

"What's this?" He wondered, laughing.

"It's too nice to go yet," she told him. "Lay with me."

He nodded, taking her gloved hand and holding it tightly in his.

"I got my period today," she finally said.

"Hence the sledding," Jim said. "Got it."

He squeezed her hand, not blaming her for the fact that another month had gone by and there was still no bump to show for it.

"Well, why not?" She asked, rolling into his side as the sun continued to descend.

"I know, babe, I know it gets a little old, but it's okay," Jim said. "We'll make it through. Someday we will have a baby Clancy to take to these illustrious slopes."

Melinda smiled at the thought. "Reallly? You think so?"

"Yeah," Jim said.

"Not a Gordon?" Melinda asked slyly and Jim turned to look at her.

"Do you want it to be a Gordon?" He asked seriously.

"No, god no," she answered. "I was just teasing. But the middle name...it could be Paul," she said tenderly.

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Jim said. "Or Pauline."

"Or Faith, if it is a girl. Your mother would skin us alive if we didn't give her some tribute."

"Don't be silly, my mother would let us name a girl whatever we wanted," Jim said, and then thought for a moment. "As long as she picked it."

Their laughter echoed around the slopes, giving promise to their dreams.

Jim got to his feet and extended a hand. This time Melinda accepted it and they slowly trudged up one of the less steep sides of the hill.

"It'll happen," Jim assured her.

"Yeah," Melinda answered. "Want to try when we get home?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "You've got your period, Mel."

"That never stopped you before, and, honestly, it's unlikely but it is possible for women to conceive during their period," Melinda said.

Jim chuckled. "Okay, Mel. Let's go bet against the odds."


	33. Snow Angels (Day 8)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

Day Eight: Snow Angels

* * *

The little girl flopped on her back in the snow, spreading her arms wide.

Melinda watched with an ache in her chest.

"I just can't believe that Christine is gone," Linda wept beside her.

"I know," Melinda said.

"How can you know this?" Linda begged. "Isn't there still a possibility that my granddaughter is safe out there?"

"She's right here, making snow angels," Melinda whispered, heart in her throat. "And Linda, you've never doubted me before."

"It never meant so much before," Linda wept, and started full out sobbing. "This can't be happening. She was all I had left of Casey."

"I know, Linda," Melinda said, her own throat becoming swollen with hurt and sadness. "I am so, so sorry."

"Can you tell where she is?" Linda finally asked, after they had wept together for a long time.

"No," Melinda whispered. "I'm sorry. She's just here, making snow angels. That means, Linda, that it's very unlikely that she suffered when she died, or that she even noticed. Most likely she just...froze before she could notice anything. And then she was finally back here, with her grandma. But she wasn't cold anymore."

"So she's making snow angels," Linda choked out. "Oh god. I cannot tolerate this."

"Take strength from Chrissy," Melinda said. "She's really happy right now. In a minute, I think she's going to cross over all by herself."

"Can't I say goodbye?" Linda wept.

"Okay," Melinda answered, holding Linda's hand tight. "Of course. Hey, Chrissy?" She called, and the little girl stood up, her blond curls in stark contrast to her light blue coat.

"What?" She called.

"Your grandma wants to tell you something," Melinda said. "And I need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay," Chrissy said, and her little legs carried her over the snow, running until she reached them.

"Linda, I don't want to tell her that she's dead," Melinda said. "I don't want anything to complicate her crossing over."

Linda had seen many of her friends cross over with Melinda's help by now; and she'd once seen Melinda's grandmother do it. "Okay," she whispered, sadly nodding her head.

Tears and hurt once again closed Melinda's throat. Chrissy looked at the two in worry.

"Why are you crying?" She asked her grandma.

"Oh, Chrissy, we're not crying," Melinda said, clueing Linda in.

"No, Chrissy," Linda spoke. "We're just a little teary eyed. We got some sad news, but you don't need to worry about that. Goodness, little girl. Where did you go off to? I was a bit worried."

"I was just walking," Chrissy answered.

"Where were you just walking?" Melinda questioned.

Linda listened carefully, reading between the lines of Melinda's question.

"Miller's Pond," Chrissy said.

"Miller's Pond?" Melinda asked and Linda gasped in horror.

"You aren't allowed there, baby," Linda said, clapping a hand to her chest.

"I know," Chrissy said.

"She knows," Melinda said softly. "Chrissy, do you see a light?"

"Yeah, I do," Chrissy answered.

"Why haven't you gone toward it if you see it?" Melinda asked, and Linda's breath caught on another sob.

"I...I don't want to," Chrissy said.

"Why don't you want to? Isn't it beautiful?" Melinda edged closer. "Chrissy, your parents are in that light."

Chrissy's eyes widened. "Mommy and Daddy?"

"Mommy and Daddy," Melinda confirmed.

Linda had started to weep and Melinda placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Can I go, grandma?" Chrissy begged. "I'll come back to visit you."

"She wants to know if she can go now," Melinda whispered to Linda.

"You can go, I know that your parents miss you a lot," Linda said.

Chrissy felt a sudden realization, and her face darkened. "My grandma can't hear me, but you can," she said to Melinda. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter, Chrissy, just go to the light," Melinda said.

"Okay," Chrissy said.

"She's hugging you, tight," Melinda told her friend and Linda's breath hitched again.

"I know, I can tell," she said, and Melinda saw that Linda was truly embracing her granddaughter.

The next moment Chrissy was racing into the light.

"Linda, the last thing I heard Chrissy say was that she could see her parents," Melinda told her friend.

Linda just wept. "Can you...can you...could you tell the searchers where to go?" She cried.

"Of course," Melinda said.

She picked up her phone and texted him, then led Linda back inside the old woman's house. There they wept for a long while longer, until there was a ring at the doorbell.

Jim.

"Linda, we found Chrissy's bond on Miller's Pond," Jim said, after a long preamble.

Linda nodded. "Melinda already told me. Chrissy's already gone into the light," she whispered, her whole body shaking.

* * *

That night, Melinda and Jim went home quietly, not able to take their mind off of Linda's suffering.

"At least Debra volunteered to stay with her," Melinda said quietly. "You know, Linda was one of the few people that my grandmother told she could see ghosts...I mean, she told the people she helped, but she told Linda because Linda was her friend."

"I know," Jim said, heart heavy. "Do you want to know how we knew where to look so quickly on Miller's Pond?"

"How?" Melinda whispered, heart heavy.

"There was a snow angel," Jim whispered. "Lots of snow angels leading a break that was barely visible. And she was right there."

His voice broke.

* * *

When Melinda woke up, Linda was standing in her room. She sat straight up in bed.

"Yeah, Linda?" She whispered. "Did Debra go home? Do you need..." She trailed off.

Linda smiled gently. "Melinda, I just wanted to thank you for all the times you helped me," she said. "But my heart couldn't hold on after all of those losses. Let Debra know it wasn't her fault. It was just my time to go. I didn't want to be here on earth without Casey, Millie and Christine anymore."

She turned her head to the window.

Melinda could see the sun beginning to rise.

"I see the light," Linda said. "It's a little like that sunrise, but about a hundred million times better."

"Go," Melinda said.

That was all it took.

* * *

A/N: Well, I just thought I'd make you cry. And there was that heartbreaking story in the news about the little boy who just ran off while he was walking with his grandma...I bet you can guess the rest. I guess I was just hoping that the grieving family has someone like Mel in their lives.


	34. Fireplace (Day 9) (Part 05 of Day 1)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

Day Nine: Fireplace/Candles

* * *

Jim felt the ache in his neck, that even stretching couldn't get rid of. He moved again, and it got worse. Damn it. It served him right for spending all day yesterday stooped over, painting. Now his back was so...sore.

He could feel Melinda stirring next to him and slowly rolled to a seated position.

The fire in front of them was still warm; the embers glowed.

Melinda's idea to 'sleep' in front of the fireplace last night after the heat had gone out had been fantastic. He remembered flashes of skin, glowing from the flames, and how they'd still curled together after everything, too hot at this point to need to be warm.

It seemed like the heat had kicked in, he thought as he slipped his clothes back on, noting the sun rising outside the window.

Melinda still seemed to be out cold, and he wondered at that but ultimately decided it was a good thing. She'd been losing sleep recently.

He grinned. They both had. God, he loved trying for a baby.

She finally stirred as he padded out of the kitchen, a pot of coffee successfully started. He watched her wake, emerging from the cocoon of blankets fully nude.

"I guess the heat turned back on," she told him, noticing him as she grabbed her robe and wrapped it tightly around her.

"Good morning," he greeted, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She grabbed his arm, holding him close. "Think we got lucky last night?" She wondered, as they both looked into the fireplace for a moment.

Jim shrugged. "I wouldn't mind if we didn't. We only just started trying, what, last week, Mel?"

"I know," she purred, sliding a hand onto his chest. "But all that means is that, since we don't know, we have all the more reasons to try doubly hard."

Jim laughed, as her lips met his and her hands locked around his neck.

The kiss built in pressure, until Jim pulled away. "Early shift," he reminded, slipping her hands off of his neck and pressing a kiss to each palm. "Please let me shower."

"Can I go along?" Melinda purred, launching herself into his arms.

Oh.

Oh.

 _Oh._

Melinda knew how to play dirty.

He gripped her tightly to him, not even an inch of space between their skin. She was incredibly strong right now, and her grip wasn't yielding an inch.

So he started for the stairs.

Melinda loosened. "What, you're seriously showering?" She panted.

"Yes, I have to," he answered, wrapping his arms more securely around him. Sometimes he really liked having a wife who was basically a foot shorter than him. Her legs were just long enough to be damned tempting in a pair of shorts and to wrap around his waist with no overflow, and she was just small enough that he could carry her like this without having problems from his sore back.

They reached the bathroom and Jim only barely managed to turn the water on before Melinda the octopus wrapped herself even more securely around him.

"We won't even make it to the shower," he finally said.

"Fine," she said, slipping away from him and casting off her robe, jumping into the shower. "Well, aren't you coming?"

He couldn't take his clothes off fast enough.

* * *

Jim was gone, to his early shift.

Melinda walked back downstairs in her robe again, taking her time gathering up the blanket cocoon they'd left in front of the fireplace. She glanced at the barely stirring fire; the embers only just glowed.

She took the poker and stirred it up again, wishing that Jim were still here.

Because she honestly did feel the need to do it...again and again and again in case the last time wasn't enough to get pregnant.

This was so trippy. Just two weeks ago a baby was the last thing she wanted. And now, she couldn't wait.

It was too bad that they hadn't been trying long enough for her to tell.

She grinned as she gathered the blankets up, heading for the laundry room. Maybe it wasn't that bad. As waiting periods went, after all...

She slipped the robe off too, realizing that, after another makeout session after the shower, it wasn't the cleanest.

It was then that the doorbell rang.

She glanced around the laundry room, and took one of Jim's sweaters from the folded pile of clean clothes. It hung loose on her but would do in a pinch if this visitor (probably the mailman needing something signed) didn't look too closely.

She slipped her feet into cozy Ugg slippers and opened the door.

Of course it was Rick.

"Hey," she said, waving him in and slamming the door behind him, not wanting to let any more cold air in.

"Sleeping in, huh?" He asked, his eyes going over her and she resisted the urge to roll hers. Most of his interest was pretend.

She hoped.

"Yeah, just a bit," she told him. "What brings you here?"

"The threat of impending snowstorms," he said. "And a ghost, too."

"Oh, why does this surprise me?" Melinda wondered, leading him to the kitchen and the pot of coffee. She poured herself a cup and let herself have some before she gave in to his raised eyebrow and poured him a cup too.

"What kind of ghost?" She asked, adding cream to her coffee.

He shrugged. "A violent one that keeps tapping at my window and calling me a liar," he said. "The real problem is, I recognize the voice. It's an old student of mine whose career at Rockland U I prematurely ended when she propositioned me. I gave her three shots, but it was obvious that she was doing the same with other teachers and I didn't want some jamoke losing his job over Lily's insanity. So I reported her. She got expelled and..." A look of real regret came over his face. "Her car plowed into a snowbank last week. She was out there for ten hours. She...she didn't make it. Her family is saying it was suicide."

"Oh, crap," Melinda said.

"And now, I think Lily has even more unresolved issues, just from the campus bylines," Rick said. "So..." He raised a hopeful eyebrow.

"So what?" She asked.

"Will you help me?"

"Of course," Melinda sighed. "How?"

Rick winked. "I'll get back to you on that. Now I believe I have to be going. Duty calls...and this is damned good coffee. Can I have some more?"

* * *

A/N: Good grief, 4x04: Save Our Souls was so disappointing. Mel and Jim go on the trip to make a baby and yet there's like no real scenes about it? No kisses even? Not any long ones. I'm not saying I watch it for the bedroom scenes, but considering that that is the plot right now...


	35. Grief

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

A/N: Taking a break from my winter challenge because...I just watched the episode where Jim dies. And the few after that. I...I never thought it would hit me so hard. I...didn't look up the number beforehand so I was just going through the episode where he dies and feeling sorry for the kid with muscle atrophy and thinking that it was kind of boring and I didn't really understand the plot.

And then.

Jim.

Died.

And my world kind of stopped for a moment. I just honestly didn't believe it happened yet.

And the episodes with Jim in Sam's body, not remembering Melinda but _still feeling so drawn to her_...

Like, it is kind of an impossible plot. I'm not gonna lie. But it still suckerpunched me.

* * *

 _I used to think it was hard. I didn't know what hard meant._ Melinda Gordon, after Jim dies.

* * *

She felt empty. She felt the emptiness flowing up inside of her, overflowing, choking her. She felt anger and frustration and loneliness. My god. The loneliness.

She went through the motions of living but she could barely _breathe._ Jim...gone. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. In all of her worst case scenarios, every time she had nightmares about Andrea's death, projecting those fears only brought her to her mother, to Faith, to Rick...Delia and Ned even.

But Jim? Never in her darkest hour had she ever even considered losing him.

There had been that time, yes. When the ambulance flipped over and the whole drive over she could only think of the look on his face that morning when he kissed her goodbye...her face still dotted with whipped cream...

But that fear had passed quickly. He'd grown strong again and full again. He'd become Jim again, loving her, cherishing her, being her sounding board, being her _everything._

She couldn't comprehend it. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Jim would never be there in the morning again.

* * *

 _His face, close to hers._

 _His breath, warm and moist on her cheek._

 _She rolls over onto her back and he smiles._

 _"You're awake," he whispers._

 _His lips press to hers, his hands roam over her body. It's the day after their wedding night._

 _She can't even remember being this happy before in her life._

 _She touches his face, the scratchy skin present there._

 _"I love you," she whispers. She doesn't need to hear it back. Jim's love dots the landscape of her life like oxygen. Without it, she wouldn't be able to breathe._

* * *

Her breath is coming in pants, but not in a good way. She can barely breathe and she's on the floor of her bedroom before she realizes she's having a panic attack. She can hear Delia's voice as though it's from far away.

She muses dryly that it was a good thing, after all, that Delia volunteered to stay this night with her.

Then her vision goes to black. And then she's staring up at Jim.

* * *

 _His arm muscles bulge as he presses his hands over his head, holding the bar up as she carefully uses the drill to place the last screw._

 _This is going to be a sturdy shower rod._

 _"I think the bathroom is about done now," he whispers as she places the drill down. "Thanks, Mel."_

 _"Anytime," she returns, putting the drill back on the table._

 _He smiles. "Have I ever told you how absolutely sexy you look holding power tools?"_

 _"Only about a dozen times since we started," she chuckles, unplugging the drill for safety._

 _She hears the water turn on behind her._

 _"What are you doing, testing it?" She wonders, before his strong arm is around her waist. "Whoa, Jim!" She shrieks, but he is pulling her into the shower, clothes and all._

 _The warm water hits them, bathing the sweat off of their faces as their lips smash together in a haze of blinding passion._

 _She loves this man._

 _His arms are tight, so tight, around her waist. His lips are everywhere, going from her lips to her neck to the skin above her neckline._

 _He's peeling her shirts off. She can't think anymore. Neither can he._

* * *

She comes back to the present to find herself lying on her bed. Delia is standing beside her, looking beyond worried. Ned hovered in the doorway.

"Thank god you woke up," Delia gasped. "I wanted to take you to the hospital but Ned thought it might be too much for you to wake up in the place that Jim...died."

"Thank you, Ned," Melinda said, nodding at him. "And thanks, Delia, for staying."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," Delia vowed, sitting next to Melinda on the bed. "You were calling out Jim's name."

"I'm not surprised," Melinda whispered, her voice giving out on her.

"Have you...seen him?" Delia asked, her voice gentle and cautious and down right terrified.

"No," Melinda barely managed to say before tears came again, flooding her vision and her emotions. "And that's what hurts the most."

* * *

 _"You can't stay mad at me forever," Jim says, his voice displaying rare frustration._

 _"No, but I can stay mad at you until you let me go the freaking party," Melinda shouts back from upstairs, heading into the bedroom._

 _"I'm not stopping you from anything," Jim protests, jumping up the stairs with three bounds, if that._

 _Melinda whirls around and glares at him when he enters the bedroom. "I'm sorry, what did you mean when you said that I couldn't go?"_

 _"I said I didn't want you going if I wasn't there to...help you," Jim amends._

 _"You mean protect me," Melinda corrects, flinging clothes this way and that as she steps out of her work dress to change into a cocktail dress._

 _Jim closes his eyes against the sight before they blink open in time to see her slip her bra off._

 _"I didn't..." Jim begins, but she can tell that he's lost his ability to speak._

 _She grabs a strapless bra and hooks it on, sliding the dress over her head._

 _"I don't want you there, it's true," Jim says. "You don't know what these freaks are capable of. You don't know what Gabriel could make them do. They may be ghosts, but they're damn powerful, Mel."_

 _She glares at him. "Don't call me Mel when I'm mad at you," she says._

 _He grabs her arm as she walks past, and it's like a John Wayne movie. She sees a rare spark of anger in his eyes. "I can call you Mel whenever I like," he whispers, and she moans as he gathers her into his arms._

 _She doesn't end up going to the party but she doesn't blame him._

* * *

The night is endless. Her heart seems to literally be weakening; she remembers the fact she read about how, after extreme emotional loss, the tendons or whatever in the heart actually did weaken. You could actually die from a broken heart.

She gets up at three a.m. and pads to the bathroom. She sees the sleep medication that Jim rarely took, prescribed for the nights after particularly traumatizing accident scenes, or murders, even.

She looks at the pills. Oh god. Oh my god. How easy it would be, right now, to just take these pills. To down them and be done with life. To meet Jim in the afterlife. To go into the light together, if only he hadn't already gone through.

Would he have gone through without her?

She wasn't sure.

She opens the bottle, her hands shaking so much she can barely make it past the childproof lid. She pours a handful into her palm and stares at it, her whole heart seeming to stop just from looking at them.

She's seen victims of suicide go into the light. It's still a possibility for them.

So why does she hesitate?

She almost feels a presence, like Jim is there, screaming at her not to do it.

But she lifts her palm anyway.

* * *

 _"ODs are the worst scene to go to," Jim said. "No, not the worst. The worst are murders and accidental deaths. The worst are decapitations. But ODs...why would anyone let himself do that?"_

 _She moves over to his side of the bed, wrapping her arms around him. "Who was it?" She wonders._

 _"It was this college kid, this guy who had a 4.0 average." Jim bites his lip. "I...the part that's the worst with ODs is that you're never fully sure if it was intentional or an accident." He closes his eyes. "And you definitely don't know which is worse."_

 _She feels his shoulders shaking beneath her. He's suffering right now, feeling that student's pain._

 _"His girlfriend was pregnant," Jim whispers. "But she was so shocked when she discovered him dead that she lost the baby. The trauma was that great."_

 _Melinda holds him ever closer, until finally he leans back, giving up._

 _She presses her lips to his bare chest, moving her small hands over the dips and planes of his stomach._

 _"You're so strong," she whispers, as he leans up to press a kiss to her shoulder._

 _"I'm not," he begs. "Not strong enough."_

 _"You've always been strong enough," she rebuts. "You take care of me, Jim."_

 _He smiles; it's bittersweet._

 _She brings her fingers back up, over his pecs and down to the nipples._

 _He stills._

 _She leans her head down, her breath coming faster._

 _His own heartbeat jumps too, in reaction._

 _"Mel," he manages to say before she takes his nipple into her mouth. He groans as she does so; it drowns out the rest of his sentence._

 _Maybe sexual favors weren't the best way to help assuage grief. Maybe this wasn't the best path to take._

 _But she'd be damned if anyone tried to stop her. All she knows is that she's taking some of the emotion away from Jim, distracting him from something he didn't even cause._

 _Her hands roam down to the waistband of his boxers._

 _"No, wait," he pants, but she's edging them down. "Mel," he whispers, and suddenly she's underneath him. He's flipped their positions._

 _"I know what you're doing," he says, leaning slip her straps off of her shoulders. "It won't work unless I can return the favor."_

* * *

His words swim into her hazy mind. No, she can't do this. He'd never forgive himself for making her do something like this to herself. He'd be so angry, so sad.

The pills shake from her hand onto the floor and then Ned is there.

"Melinda? What are you doing?"

He comes into the bathroom and pulls her off of the commode.

She says, in a daze, "I stopped myself from doing it, from swallowing them."

"I know, you were brave," Ned says, gathering up the spilled pills and shoving them back into the bottle. He stands up and gathers her into his awkward teenage arms. "Come on, Melinda, let's keep you back to sleep."

"I can't sleep," she whispers.

"I know," he says grimly. "But you have to try."

* * *

 _The night was the longest of her life. She stays awake so long that her eyes hurt and her shoulders are sore from all of her tossing and turning, jerking to an upright position when she thought she heard Jim's footsteps on the stairs and it turned out to be something else; a tree outside or just plain her imagination._

 _She flips over onto her stomach, then gives up entirely, going to the bathroom and running warm water onto her wash cloth, pressing it to her eyes to soothe them._

 _Where was he? Why wasn't he home yet? He was supposed to be home hours ago._

 _Her heart was jumping; it had jumped all night long. She couldn't concentrate on anything, and old tricks of doing multiplication brought her nowhere near sleep._

 _On nights like this, when she couldn't sleep, the only thing that could bring her was a mind shaking orgasm._

 _But Jim isn't here to give her one._

 _She steps back into the bedroom, considering things. She's never tried anything like this before, but maybe..._

 _She swallows and walks over to the bed, pulling her nightgown her head. She looks at her own body in the mirror and is hard pressed to see what Jim sees:_

 _Her breasts are large, but they aren't as perky as a supermodels would be. Her stomach rounds, just a little, and her hips are wide; her ass is dimpled._

 _She inhales and closes her eyes, running her hand down her shoulder and onto her breast. If she really concentrates, she can believe it's Jim's, never mind the fact that it's not big enough, or rough enough._

 _She finds her nipple as her other hand sneaks to her thigh. This is working better than she thought it would._

 _Still, it's not quite enough._

 _Her mind goes into a haze as she brings all of her concentration to conjuring Jim up. She can think of the look on his face when she takes her shirt off, how his hands feel when they're making love..._

 _It's enough to bring a loud moan from her._

 _And she stops, stock still, her eyes flying open._

 _Another moan had joined hers._

 _Jim is standing in front of her, looking dazed._

 _"That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he manages to say. "You don't have to stop."_

 _"I was pretending I was you," she whispers, and her cheeks are scarlet._

 _"Ah, well, then," he says and strips. "I guess I'd better join in the fun after all."_

 _His hands cover hers; making her do the same things to herself but he's guiding it. It's not enough, though. She wants his hands to do it, his mouth to do it, his huge arms to press around her, gather her._

 _She wants to memorize his body so that next time he's so late, she's got something better to work with._

* * *

But it will never be enough. Memories are never enough, in the end.

She wakes up in the morning and everything is empty. She feels the loneliness press in on her and she almost tries it; tries touching herself.

The light shines in the window, glaring in her eyes. She remembers that Ned or Delia could walk in at any moment and her hand leaves her breast.

It won't be Jim's. It will never be Jim's. Never again.

She breaks down again, the sobs coming up so hard that they choke her. She hears her own voice, keening, mourning, wailing.

And then all is still.

She feels him then, just for a moment.

She stops crying.

She realizes that she's still got a life to live. And Jim would be the first to tell her to live it.

But not without him.

No.

No.

Never without Jim.

* * *

A/N: In case you didn't notice the pattern, the first flashback was 100 words, the next 200, etc., going all the way to 500.


	36. Snowed In (Day 10)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

Day Ten: Snowed In

* * *

"I can't believe this," Delia said, her voice hushed. "It came on so suddenly."

"Yeah, it's a bit freaky," Melinda agreed, folding her arms over herself. "I'm going to go turn up the thermostat. It's freezing in here."

"At this point, we're going to be snowed in, inside _Same As It Never Was_ and I do not want that," Delia insisted, following Melinda into the back room. "Seriously, we have to do something."

"Do what? There's nothing we can do," Melinda said, frustrated. "Do you really think that anyone in Grandview _isn't_ aware that this is happening? We're probably not the only ones."

"But what about Ned? And dinner?" Delia wondered. "I'm hungry, Mel."

Melinda's heart pinched to hear the words. Not many people called her that. Just Jim.

"I'll go and pick up a pizza from that new parlor that just opened across the square, if you'd like," Melinda said.

"No, no way in hell I'm letting you leave me here," Delia said. "Take me with you. We can just lock up the shop and come back if we need to."

Melinda peered out across the square. "Scratch that idea. I can't see a damn thing. Only a fool would go out in this."

* * *

"You do realize that only an idiot would go out in something like this?" Ned asked Sam, his voice falsely patient.

"Your mom is stuck in that shop too," Sam replied. "Now the only question is, are you coming or am I going alone? That is something I'm fine with. I don't want to endanger you."

"Let me see what Melinda has in the fridge," Ned said, folding his arms and going to the kitchen. "Score! Leftover pizza. You can go ahead, J-Sam."

"What were about to call me?" Sam asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

"Nothing, you misheard me, Sam," Ned said, cramming a piece of pizza into his mouth. "Crazy weather. I just can't believe my luck at managing to reach Melinda's house before it hit."

"Yeah," Sam said. "I'm off. I'm going to take these snowshoes; I found them in her garage."

"That's a good place for them to be," Ned commented cautiously.

"I've got coffee in three thermoses and I'll see about picking up food for them in town," Sam said. "Now I'll be going."

"Are you really ready for something like this?" Ned asked. "I mean, you only just got amnesia. Were you a sportsman of any sort before now?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, slumping a bit. "But there's something that won't let me _not_ go to Melinda right now. I know, it sounds majorly messed up and weird."

"Not as much as you'd think," Ned admitted. "Go on then. I can't stop you."

Sam nodded and left the house. He was wearing more than enough layers and there was something else that was urging him on: the thought of Melinda.

He wasn't sure why. She'd denied them having an affair before her husband's death but my god, how else could you explain the connection between them?

Every time he looked at her, his heart skipped a beat. He'd wake up in the middle of the night from steamy dreams, all centered around Melinda's body. True enough, he had no idea of who the man he was before now but he really hoped that Sam Lucas hadn't made a habit of having erotic thoughts and dreams about his employers. Because that was something he didn't want to handle.

God, they were so vivid, though. It was like he was actually remembering sexual encounters with Melinda. He could instinctively think of how she felt in his arms, cradled close. He could almost imagine how her breasts would feel; sometimes it was like he'd actually held the weight of them in his hands.

What...why...how could this be happening if he hadn't ever seen Melinda naked? Melinda _like that?_ Melinda at her most vulnerable, begging for him to give her release?

How could any man's imagination be so fucking vivid?

He shook his head, definitely not cold now. He was burning up and all the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to his groin.

God, he hated being a man sometimes.

Melinda could turn him on with only the slightest of words; motions. She could make him feel alive just by tugging her hair back into a ponytail. She sparked more memories in him than any time he'd seen his parents since the accident.

And there was something inside of him that wouldn't let him turn back.

So he forged on, getting just enough visibility in the storm to make the right choices. Hitherto unknown skills came in to play: he found that he was very skilled at walking on showshoes.

* * *

Melinda pulled another coat on. "I hate doing this, since we might mess up our inventory, but you should put a coat on too, Delia. We're going to be frozen."

"I found some fudge in a tin back here!" Delia called, emerging from the back room in triumph, holding it aloft.

"Really, give me a piece!" Melinda said, her stomach growling. "Oh, wow, this is almost completely full!"

"Yeah, I think it was an early Christmas present from Mrs. McGee, you know, she owns that flower shop?" Delia said, taking a piece.

"Yeah, I know her," Melinda said, diving into the fudge. She and Delia moaned at the same time. "This is amazing," Melinda said, taking another piece.

"What does she use?" Delia exclaimed, taking two more pieces and eating them in rapid succession.

"Probably condensed milk but I've never tasted a fudge this smooth, but still so...chocolate-y and fudge-y and oh," Melinda said, another piece finding its way to her lips.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Delia heaved a sigh and cast the tin aside. "Who am I kidding? This isn't going to help us."

"It might help our waistlines expand," Melinda said heavily, taking another piece and Delia quickly put a lid on the tin.

"It's like two pounds, so yes," Delia said. "We have to stop eating, stat."

"Fine," Melinda said, folding her arms. "Then put a coat on. We need some way to stay warm."

"Yeah, I guess," Delia said. "Seriously, what are we going to do? Spend the night in the shop?"

"That's the only option we have, Delia," Melinda replied. "Unfortunately."

Just then the door banged.

Melinda and Delia whirled around to see a masked man entering on snowshoes.

Melinda's heart skipped a beat. "Sam?" She wondered, stepping forward to shove the door closed behind him.

"Yeah, it's me," Sam said, pulling his mask and scarves off. "How are you two holding up? I've got hot coffee."

The travel mug was jerked away from him in an instant, and Delia downed it. "Oh, thank god," she muttered.

As Sam gave them an update, telling them about Ned and what he'd heard about the storm, Melinda watched him carefully, wondering what had brought him here.

In the end, he went out and got a pizza for dinner. The couple who owned it were snowed in there, too, and he got some news from them.

The pizza was pretty cold by the time he got back, but Melinda dug out an old (literally) space heater and it got warm in no time.

They spread blankets and coats on the floor in the front, settling down as it steadily got darker outside. Melinda locked the door.

"We should move the blankets close together so that we can use each other's body warmth too," Sam urged, doing so as he said it. "Your thermostat isn't worth beans, Melinda."

"I know," Melinda sighed, moving to crank it up one more notch. "But my heating bill will be through the roof anyway. Oh, how the world works."

"Yeah," Delia said, taking the coat on the edge. "Melinda, sleep next to me."

Melinda glared at her, but knew that wisdom in what her friend said, settling down into the cocoon.

Sam turned out the lights and in a moment she could hear him settling in next to her. She could see his back, broad and strong, in the dim light coming into the shop from the street lights outside.

"Good night," Delia said. "Don't say it back. I'm too tired."

Melinda stayed silent, not believing how much this _hurt_ to be _so_ close to Jim and yet so far away.

She'd thought of him as Jim, not even correcting it to Sam.

She folded her arms around herself, feeling tears coming on. She kept her sobs silent, but they racked her body anyway.

She cried herself to sleep.

* * *

When Sam woke up, Melinda was cradled in his arms.

It felt so right. It felt like this was how it had always been, how it should be between them.

Her eyes had dark circles underneath them and he wondered if he'd imagined the sobs he'd heard last night.

"Oh, Melinda," he whispered, daring to press a kiss to her temple. "It's wrong but I might love you."

* * *

In the silence of the shop, Delia was the only one who heard him. Her lips curled into a smile. "You don't know how happy that makes me," she said to herself. "And Melinda when I tell her...no, that should be private. She can find out on her own. Knowing Jim...she will, and soon."


	37. Quilts (Day 11)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast

Day Eleven: Quilts

* * *

"Some honeymoon," Andrea said, propping her hands on her hips. "Hiking?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's not a honeymoon," Melinda sighed. "What with us having been married for six months, it's not a honeymoon."

"Yeah, but it's not like you did anything then, so this is your closest bet," Andrea said, sighing and flopping onto Melinda's bed. "Whoa, this is springy! Did Jim pick this out?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Melinda replied, frowning as she took clothes from her closet.

"This bed is so comfortable," Andrea said in awe, rolling all over it and giggling. "So springy but still firm. Wow. Does it make sex, like, twice as amazing?"

Melinda quirked a brow. "I can't say I've ever noticed."

"Well, cause you guys must do it all over the place, right?" Andrea wondered, bouncing up and down.

Melinda blushed. "Well, there have been locations other than the bed," she hedged, and quickly held up a pink sweater. "Yea or nay?"

"Yea," Andrea said. "You look sweet in pink. How long are you going to be gone, again?"

"Three or four days," Melinda said. "It depends on the weather and if Jim gets called in. He did arrange to switch shifts and everything but if we're on the third day and he gets an emergency call...he's not going to say no."

"Got it," Andrea said, stood up and walked to Melinda's closet. "Ooh, I like this one."

Melinda frowned at the slinky red top. "That's not really hiking appropriate," she responded, walking over. "But I do like how it makes me look."

"Especially when you wear your hair up," Andrea counseled, her voice sly.

"Hmm," Melinda said, and after a moment of hesitation, placed it in the suitcase. "It won't take up much room, so why not?"

"Indeed," Andrea said. "How many bras are you taking?"

Melinda stopped. "Two? Do I need more?"

"Don't you _want_ more?" Andrea questioned.

Melinda just shook her head. "Not really, and they're a pain to pack. Can you just help me pick out some pieces that will be warm? It may be March but you can never tell about snow in Grandview. I wouldn't trust it to not snow in April."

"True enough," Andrea groaned. "It killed me last Spring when I was going to my friend's wedding, you know, Vera? I was planning to wear this strappy thing, with orange and blue up here, I showed it to you, right?"

"Yeah, you did," Melinda said absently, slowing in folding up a pair of jeans. "You would have looked amazing, Andrea."

"I know, but then it blizzarded and I ended up in velvet and turtleneck," Andrea grumbled. "She didn't even have a reception, in the end."

"But she made up for it in July, with that beach party," Melinda reminded. "That was fun and I was glad that she made time to do that."

"Yeah, but you can't wear that kind of dress to the beach," Andrea finished. "Okay, I've got a job to do. What in your closet is warm?" She looked at the clothes, hands propped on her hips. "Hey, Melinda, what kind of stuff is this cabin stocked with?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's one of Jim's buddies'," Melinda said. "He hunts so he keeps a cabin up there. It should have everything. I at least know that it has a functioning toilet."

"Really?" Andrea said. "Cause that's what scares me about camping. No plumbing."

"He got some sort of...doohickey and there's fully functioning plumbing," Melinda said. "He put a lot of money into it."

"Good," Andrea said. "So you'll survive this weekend after all."

"Yes, we will," Melinda chuckled. "The shower is tiny and the shower head really short, but we'll manage."

"And it has everything else? Heating, food, whatever?" Andrea asked. "Furniture?"

Melinda shrugged. "I'm trusting Jim that his friend has a good cabin," she replied.

Andrea sighed. "Just in case...I mean, it could get really cold...take your heaviest quilt."

"Why?" Melinda asked, but Andrea was already darting to her linen closet out in the hall. Melinda followed her.

"What are you doing? That could fill an entire suitcase all by itself!" Melinda protested as Andrea pulled out a huge, down quilt that had been a wedding gift. "We never even used that!"

"You should, down is super warm," Andrea said, grunting as she pulled it out.

"It also attracts dust mites like heck," Melinda said.

"Then don't take it out of the plastic," Andrea said, heaving it onto the floor in triumph. "Oh, yeah, this girl is strong. Have you seen my arm muscles lately, Melinda? I mean really looked at them. I've really been working out."

"I know," Melinda said, reluctantly loading the quilt into an empty suitcase. "There, all set."

Andrea smiled in triumph.

* * *

The drive was north east, almost going into Vermont. Melinda took Jim's hand in her own and held it tight, occasionally bringing it to her lips as they drove.

 _"She continued to come, and although Betsy felt a little silly she delighted in the puffs. Sustained by them she joined Tacy in singing the "Cat Duet" at Zetamathian Rhetoricals. It was definitely childish but it had to be sung; it had become a tradition in the Deep Valley High. Betsy read an original poem for rhetoricals. It was named "Those Eyes" and sounded a little like Poe. She wrote more poems than stories on Uncle Keith's trunk this year – when she found time to write at all. This was usually late at night, when she had finished her homework or come in from a party. The house would be quiet; cold, too, sometimes, but she put on a warm bathrobe. She curled up beside the trunk and read poetry and wrote it, and she had an uncanny feeling then, too. This wasn't Betsy Ray, the "popular" girl. This wasn't Betsy Ray, the Okto Delta,"_ Melinda paused in her reading. "What do you think so far?" She asked Jim.

"I'm not sure why she's making such bad choices, when she obviously doesn't even enjoy it that much at this point," Jim said, making a turn as they went higher up.

"Yeah, but that's humanity for you, right?" Melinda said, carefully closing _Betsy Was a Junior_ with the realization that they were about to reach their destination. "I mean, think of what you _wouldn't_ do in high school to be popular."

Jim shrugged. "I didn't care about being popular," he replied.

"Because you were," Melinda said.

"Not consciously, but I suppose I was," Jim said and chanced a look at Melinda. She'd taken his hand in both of hers, looking down at her lap. "Oh, Mel. Popularity isn't everything and you know that."

"Yeah, but sometimes...I just look back and wonder what it would have taken," Melinda said. "Just to...not be an outcast. For someone, anyone, to know my name beyond Meloona who spoke to spirits."

"I hate that that happened to you," Jim said immediately. "But I bet you turned out 200% better than any of your so-called popular classmates did."

"Well, I'm the one that has you," Melinda said. "So I guess you're right."

"You've got a lot more going for you than just me," Jim chuckled, as they pulled up in front of a cabin. "I think we found it," he said happily, pulling his hand from hers. "Let me just go check."

He hopped out of the car, studying the piece of paper with the instructions and directions written on it from his friend, Louis. Melinda watched him, watched how his brow crinkled, as an old man came out to question why Jim was there.

Melinda pressed a hand to her forehead and supressed a headache, and then a shiver as Jim got back into the car a moment later. "Not quite," he said. "But this Mr. Morrison gave me directions and I know where I'm going now."

He waved to the man and Melinda smiled too, as they pulled out and turned.

"This isn't a road," was Melinda's first sentence.

"Yes, it is," Jim said.

"It's dirt," Melinda said.

"Cars are allowed to drive on it. We're up this mountain," Jim said, glancing at her. "You still okay with this?"

Melinda sighed. "It's going to be a completely private weekend with you," she said. "I'm fine."

"Glad you still feel that way," he smiled and took her hand again, resting it on his lap in a loose grip.

She smiled in return and made up her mind to continue being happy as Jim made tricky turns and went increasingly off-road, until they were standing in front of...

"This is a luxury cabin?" Melinda blurted, before she could help herself.

She got out of the car with Jim, huddling behind him for shelter from the bracing wind as he struggled to unlock the door.

It swung open with a creak and Melinda cautiously stepped inside, going straight to the bathroom. A few tests revealed that the plumbing, at the very least, was functioning, even if nothing else in the cabin was. Thank god.

She stepped back out into the main room, where Jim waited with a worried look on his face. "Okay?" He asked, spreading his arms.

She reflected grimly that, standing like that, he almost filled the cabin up.

"It's great," she returned. "Now let's get our luggage inside."

"Why did you have that extra suitcase?" He questioned as they labored, a few minutes later. "I thought we agreed on one, or two if you felt like it, but three? And this is a monster sized one!"

"I decided I needed it," Melinda hedged, slamming the car trunk and Jim locked the doors of the car as they went inside, flopping the suitcases on the floor and closing the cabin door behind them.

Jim lit the kerosene lamp above them. "No electricity," he commented.

"I thought there was a space heater," Melinda questioned. "And a bed."

Jim bit his lip. "I don't see them," he admitted, going to a closet. "But here are two sleeping bags!"

"Not quite the same thing," she said, shivering.

Jim walked swiftly over, folding his arms around her. "It's fine, it's good, we'll survive," he murmured.

"Maybe if we don't freeze to death," Melinda said, just as the wind outside took on an ominous howl. Melinda flinched and ran to the window, Jim right behind her.

"Those are blizzard clouds," Melinda said.

"I think so, yeah," Jim said.

* * *

They managed a small dinner as the wind outside turned into snow and ice. It banged at the door and Jim was obviously worried about it.

He spread the sleeping bags out on the floor.

"Ready?"

"No," she responded, and unzipped the bags.

"What are you doing? That's where we're sleeping, Mel!" Jim protested.

She spread them out flat, overlapping so that it was more than enough room for the both of them. "I want to cuddle," she said.

"But then we don't have a top quilt," Jim said.

"Oh, we do," Melinda responded and pulled it from the suitcase. "Andrea convinced me to pack it and I am so glad she did."

Jim watched, a bit astounded, as Melinda made their bed up for the night. "It looks comfortable," he admitted.

"Good," Melinda said and pulled her shirt over her head.

"What are you doing?" He asked, watching her as she wiggled out of three sweaters and a tank top before reaching her bra.

"Taking off my clothes," she said, pulling the jeans from her hips.

He watched carefully, then walked forward. "Can I help?" He asked, moving his hands to her bra fastening.

"Please," she purred.

* * *

A/N: Next on my to-do list:

(mini) high school AU for Jimel.

Period piece for Jimel. I'm just not sure where I'd put them. I do like the 1890s...

Also, I'm going to have an extended version of this chapter up on AO3. It will just be chapter 37 of The Cosmic Law of French Toast there, because AO3 allows explicit stories and ffnet doesn't. I won't make a different story there, though. Just want to clarify.

I'll let you guys know when I have that extended version up. Haven't quite put the finished touches on it yet.


	38. Sense Memory

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

A different kind of raincheck. Tag to 4x14: Slow Burn.

* * *

Melinda's lips pressed to his, and Sam felt something...new awaken.

His lips remembered this. He had a keen sense that this had happened before. It had to have happened before.

And yet. It hadn't. There was no way. He refused to believe that Melinda had cheated on her husband. She wasn't that kind of woman.

ANd oh god. His hands were moving. They were moving like he'd done this before a million times, like only his brain doubted, in this moment, what the right move was.

He rested his hands on her shoulders, and they were shaking from the terror.

His heart beat in his throat. He moved ever closer to her, feeling the heat of her body.

No. No, he couldn't do this. Melinda wasn't ready.

She so obviously couldn't be...ready...to start dating again, so soon after her husband's death.

Jim.

Jim's death.

Sam felt his fingers itching. He felt his body stir to life. He felt feelings he hadn't been able to bring to life for a long, long time now...they were returning.

His hands swept around to her bare back above her strapless dress.

Oh, god. She was as soft as she looked.

She whimpered slightly, like she was about to pull away.

But something inside of him took over then. His mind was being overruled by something much stronger...sense memory.

He took control of the kiss, somehow knowing exactly how and where to probe with his tongue to get Melinda to open up to him.

And she was whimpering again, but now her hands were curling around his neck; her fingernails were biting into him.

She was moving towards him in a restless, slinking motion.

His hands came around, caressing the skin above her dress in the front now. He knew...somehow he knew how her breasts would feel. And it terrified him.

His hands moved again, clasping her at the waist; tight, tighter, moving her against his raging erection.

Oh god. Melinda.

She was...she was exactly how he knew she'd be.

But he didn't know how he knew.

Her hair was done in loose waves. He moved his hands up to her neck, pulling the hair up and aside. His lips fell away from her lips; she tilted her head and he kissed the skin of her neck, nipped at it, sucked on it.

He came to the ribbon of her necklace and he, dropping her hair, untied it.

It felt like a ceremony. He felt like he was taking something away from her as he pulled the ribbon from her neck. It was just a piece of jewelry. He'd never seen her wear it before and he doubted it meant something to her.

But it somehow felt significant.

The ribbon, so light, seemed to weigh in his hands. He dropped it; it fluttered to the ground at their feet.

She was staring at him, a little bit dazed. He'd pulled back to look at the ribbon and now he just wasn't sure again. His mind was taking over, shouting no, saying that he needed to wait, Melinda should wait.

But his heart...his hands...his legs...they were moving to another's memories, another's orders, someone else's directions.

He was sliding his arms around her in a move you'd only find in a 1940s war movie: he was swinging her around and dipping her over one arm and her neck was so there, so exposed.

The skin above her neckline called to him. He had a feeling that the low cut dress...it couldn't hold out anymore.

It shouldn't.

* * *

Her clothes were still on the floor, they were too far for her to reach without making a fool or a whore out of herself.

Sam wished she didn't have to feel like that but he didn't know what else to do at this point. Had he been somewhat of a ladies man? Certain people, like his sister, seemed to think that.

But he didn't...he didn't know what to do about this. He'd bet millions of dollars that he'd never before had an encounter as good as this one had been and yet...it had happened a thousand times before, a thousand nights.

He finally handed her one of his plaid shirts and she looked away as she slid it on. It fell to her thighs as she stood up and slowly buttoned his shirt.

"I...I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I pushed you."

"No, it was all me," he protested. "I've been told by my sister that I was quite a ladies man at times in my life. I guess my memories just took over when you...kissed me."

She couldn't even look at him. "It wasn't just that," she said, her voice raw and her tone one of begging, pleading. "Surely there was something else to it."

"Yeah, there was something else," he managed to say, staring at her. "There was this other sense...I knew exactly what to do, Mel."

Her eyes widened.

"Mel?" She whispered.

"Yeah," he returned, and then ducked his head. "Sorry. That was what your husband called you...right?"

"Yeah, him and a few close friends," Melinda managed. "Not that you can't call me Mel too. I...please do."

"Aren't we moving too fast?" Sam finally said, voicing his concerns. "I mean, my brain says one thing and it's like my whole entire body just contradicts it, just throws it out the window. It doesn't care what my brain says. It moves of its own accord. I...I've worked out since the accident. My body remembers the moves...the motions of a hard workout. I know how to do a clean and jerk. I can perform a perfect pushup or manage a free throw in basketball without even blinking an eye. It was like that, Mel...inda. It was like..."

"Sense memory," she whispered. "That's what it's called."

"Then tell me this," he managed to say. "Mel...inda."

"What?" She asked, moving restlessly.

"Where are those memories from?" He asked. "How does my body know how to do that?"

"It's your psyche, not your body, it's your...soul," she said, gesticulating wildly. "Please believe me, Sam. I did not cheat on my husband. Ever. But there are ways...there are other explanations, I don't know."

There were tears in her eyes.

He knew what to do for those too.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What?" She asked.

"I made you cry," he said, moving behind her and stripping the stained quilt off of the bed.

"What are you doing?" She asked, pressing a hand to her mouth as if trying to suppress the sobs.

"I'm making my bed so we can sleep in it," he said. "We can talk about this in the morning."

"We could...go up to my room, it's a better bed," she whispered.

He wanted to say that it would be too weird. God, it was her marriage bed. He couldn't sleep in a dead man's bed.

But it doesn't feel like that at all. It feels right.

He picks her up, swings her into his arms in a princess carry. Her legs are soft, silky. Her thighs drape on his arms in a way that makes his mind begin to stir with possibilities again.

He carries her from the garage to the back door; it's locked so they have to go back and he squats down so that she can grab her keys from the bureau.

They don't speak; they don't say a word. They're both way too scared of breaking the spell that's come over them.

She unlocks the door and he carries her inside; up the stairs.

They're nearing the bedroom.

Sense memory takes over again.

He's walking faster.

They've made it over the threshold. He feels everything come crashing into him and he's laying her out on the bed.

He can't wait to get this man's shirt off of her.

The thought puzzles him...it's his shirt, after all...

But it goes away as he again discovers her skin, her scent, her motions and responses.

He's felt it a thousand times before, this he's now completely sure of. It's the only possible solution. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Like usual since his accident, he has no idea what that quote is from.

But no matter what the truth of it is...no matter how many times he's thrusted against her, spilled into her...every time feels like the first.

* * *

A/N: I have an EXTREMELY extended version up on ao3 up separately under the title "Sense Memory". You get 2x the amount of Jimel sexytimes.


	39. Incredulity and Other Emotions

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

A/N: Another one that's on ao3 but they're the same length. No edits this time.

* * *

Jim looked out the window of the pizza parlor at the sunny town. He was meeting Melinda for lunch, but as usual his beloved wife was running late.

He hesitated, then walked to the counter. "Can I have two slices of sausage and an iced tea?" He requested and paid the amount the clerk told him before sitting down by the window he'd just been looking out of, staring out at the town and the people outside.

It—it shouldn't bother him. He knew that Melinda didn't really like celebrating things like Valentine's or even Christmas, to an extent, and God knew she hated the very mention of her own birthday, shying as far away as possible from any sort of celebration.

But to go so far as to dismiss Jim's, which was today, it hurt a little. She hadn't forgotten, oh no, she'd just asked if he would mind her going out that night to some sort of book club with Delia, since Delia had been asking her to go for the past few months and Melinda had always had to cancel at the last minute and she felt bad about it.

And Jim, fool that he was, had said of course, he didn't mind. Why should he?

And now she was late. As usual. And, not as usual, it hurt.

The waitress brought his pizza over and Jim took a bite. Marciano's usually had the best pizza in town but this tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He choked down a few mouthfuls with some iced tea and looked morosely out the window.

And he saw Melinda. Even with how he felt right now he perked up at seeing her. Of course he did. He loved her, with a depth that continued to terrify him.

It didn't help that she looked especially tempting today, what with her up off of her neck in a bouncing ponytail, elongating the curve that he most loved to kiss. What with the brown wrap dress that just matched her eyes, low cut and cinched at the waist to show off the curves that Jim loved so much: hips and breasts.

She was glowing in the sunshine, her gladiator sandals creeping up her ankles to make Jim itch to unfasten them. He never admitted it but he actually liked it better when Melinda wore flat as opposed to when she wore heels. It was—invigorating to be so much taller than his wife. And though heels made kissing easier, flats were more fun because then he got to pick up at the waist (he loved her waist) and she, inevitably, wrapped her delectable legs tightly around his waist.

He swallowed, realizing that his pants had just gotten tighter, just from thinking of her and seeing her enter the shop.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she hurried over.

"Hey, you already ordered?" She asked, leaning to press an all-too-brief kiss to his temple.

"Yeah, I was hungry," he began.

"No, that's tine," Melinda said, waving him down. "I'll just go put in an order myself. I'm so sorry for being late, Jim."

"It's fine," he lied, but he realized that it was, indeed, becoming fine in his mind now that Melinda was here.

"I just feel so bad since we aren't doing anything for your birthday and this was supposed to be a replacement of sorts for a party or whatever," Melinda said, standing intoxicatingly close to him.

"Well, we could still do something to celebrate," Jim began and Melina laughed, leaning closer. He got a rather fantastic view down her dress then and lost all brain function in that moment.

"What?" She asked, her lips almost brushing his ear and JIm bit back a moan. Was she doing this on purpose?

He inhaled so that he could bring oxygen back to his brain and formulate a sentence but he only got the scent of her perfume: musky, sweet, flowery.

"We could go home after lunch," Jim suggested, taking her hand and pressing an open mouthed kiss to her wrist.

Her eyes darkened, but then she shook her head. "I wish, but I can't. It's crazy at the shop and I had a ghost all morning so Delia was holding down the fort all by herself and I don't want to have to ask her to do that again, even though she would. Maybe because she would."

Jim felt a keen disappointment slice into his heart. "Mel—"

"I have to go order, just a sec," she said and hurried to the counter, hips swaying.

Jim inhaled sharply at the sight and moaned low in his throat, determining to go home after lunch alone—and take a very cold shower; otherwise he wouldn't survive an afternoon at the firehouse.

He watched her, his eyes tracing over her feminine form, from her legs up to her neck, getting stuck a bit in the middle but travelling up in time to see Melinda smile as she turned around and came back to the table, hopping onto one of the tall stools with ease, her skirt flipping up a bit as she did so.

He bit back another moan and let his eyes meet hers, trying to force a smile onto his face.

"Well, the shop closes at five," Jim said. "When does your book club start? I thought it wasn't until eight."

"Seven," she said. "But you have a shift until 6:30, right?"

"Yeah, but I could get someone to cover," he managed to say, conquering all pride.

Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Jim, but Delia asked me to come over early to help set up for the club, and she's been so good to me recently."

"No, it's fine," Jim said quickly. "Doesn't matter. It's just..."

"What?" She urged.

"Nothing," he finished. "Hey, want to split a calzone? I'm not really feeling this pizza."

"Okay," she agreed, and he hurried to the counter, throwing his pizza into the trash can.

"Can I get a calzone?" He asked, and took his time paying for it, counting out change to the last penny before going back to the table.

"I don't like this," he said baldly. "I know that you don't like birthdays and that's fine, but this hurts. And I know that it's just a day..." He trailed off, unable to find more words.

Melinda's pizza had come and she was in the middle of chewing when he said his piece, slowing.

"Oh, Jim," she breathed, reaching to take his hand. "I'll make it up tomorrow. I promise."

"How long does your club last?" He wondered.

Melinda shrugged, lifting her shoulders lightly. "Delia said that good nights meant staying until midnight. But I don't have to do that."

"No, stay if you have fun," Jim said. "I'm taking this too hard. I'll just order in some chinese food and watch Bond or something."

"I don't have to go," she said, but Jim shook his head.

"No, go," he said. "Listen, I have to be getting back to work. My shift starts soon."

"Your calzone," she began, but he took advantage of her open mouth by kissing her, long and deep and not enough by any means.

When he pulled away, she looked a bit dazed and he noticed that the people in the close booths looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he whispered, and left before he said something he'd regret.

* * *

He spent a restless afternoon, with no calls, and just a lot of games of slapjack with the guys at the station. Usually he liked these afternoons. There was no stress, there was just time spent hanging out with his best friends and colleagues.

But today all he wanted was something to actually take his mind off of Melinda and if he was actually hurt and why it hurt so much, and oh, god, how she'd looked in that brown dress.

He wanted to rip it off. He was halfway through undressing her when Bobby cleared his throat and Jim realized it was his turn to play.

That was when he'd almost given up, formulating a plan. He'd tell the guys to cover for him and he'd run over to Same As It Never Was and drag Melinda out back to her car. They'd done it in a jeep before. They could do it today. If he worked fast, he could be done in five. Ten if Mel could get in a good climax and Jim would never leave her wanting, so he'd better make it fifteen.

It was his turn again.

Jim played and his mind whirled around thoughts of Melinda and how much he didn't want to be here right now.

And then it was 6:30 and his shift was over.

He called Melinda, hoping against hope that she might still be at home, or the shop, and alone, instead of at Delia's getting ready for her book club.

"Hey, Jim, I'm glad you called," she picked up. "Listen, I'm already at Delia's, but I left the book at the house. Could you swing by really quick to pick it up for me? It's on my bedside table."

He felt his throat work. He felt like he was coming down with something. That had to be why he felt like crap. Or maybe it was because his wife was doing everything possible to avoid having sex with him. That would make any man feel like shit.

"Sure," he answered, suddenly not hurrying. Maybe he could at least get in a good makeout session with Melinda at Delia's house.

He drove home slowly, his legs seeming to drag after he'd parked his truck in the driveway. He walked into the house slowly too, and took the stairs only one at a time.

The door to their bedroom was closed. That was a bit odd. They usually left it open.

He walked forward and flung it open, ready to get the book and get it over with, but the sight that met his eyes absolutely floored him.

Melinda was sprawled on the bed, wearing only a corset and a pair of panties so tiny that they didn't even qualify.

His heart began to beat at triple time, and he could only stare.

She slowly sat up, slowing the movement so to give him a better view.

His throat worked, and he found himself walking forward, his hands going to his blue paramedic shirt; the buttons.

"Hi," she said, her voice low.

"I thought you had book club," he said.

"I told a white lie; it's actually tomorrow," she told him. "I wanted to surprise you. I never let you do anything for my birthday, so, I don't know." She looked up at him anxiously. "I felt so bad at lunch. Are you mad at me?"

He let out the moan he'd been stifling earlier as his dress shirt fell to the floor and he peeled his t-shirt over his head. "Melinda, that's the farthest emotion I can think of when I look at you."

She smiled. "You like what you see?"

"Yes," he whispered, and moved closer to her, his mouth immediately going to where it was drawn: her lips. Oh, he loved kissing his wife. Oh, he loved that he could let his lips roam down her neck to her cleavage. Oh, he loved unfastening certain items of clothing and easing them from her body. He loved the sounds she made. He loved when she surprised him.

Most of all, he loved her. Forever. He was so glad that she was here right now. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd actually had to spend the evening alone.

Her hands were roaming over him, driving him crazy, and she broke away long enough to voice one wish:

"Happy birthday, Jim," she whispered. "Was it a good one?"

"The best," he managed to reply.


	40. Waking Dreams

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

A/N: Another one that's on ao3 but again, no edits this time.

Tag to 4x22: Endless Love.

* * *

Jim led her to the car, both of them running a little in their eagerness.

"I hope we weren't that obvious," Melinda whispered.

"He told us to get a room; I think we were a little bit beyond obvious," Jim said, dashing in front of her and pulling her close to him for another kiss. "You kept looking at my neck during dinner, Mel."

"You were wearing that open necked shirt," she explained, nuzzling closer to him.

"Yeah, but you don't usually look at me like that," he said. "Not during dinner with Eli. Not like I was the meal."

Melinda laughed into another heated kiss, until Jim reluctantly pulled back. "Well, since that dream I had about you...you know the one...I can't stop thinking about your neck."

"Was it that good?" Jim asked, his mouth going to her ear.

"Not really, but there was just this overwhelming...desire to follow you," Melinda said. "I love you, Jim, and you know that, but this was like you were my air and every time you walked away it became harder to breathe. Plus, I felt so horny."

He made a noncommittal sound, nipping at her ear and making her moan. Making them both moan. "You were looking too," she moaned. "You kept trying to peek down my shirt."

"I couldn't tell what bra you were wearing," he whispered. "I thought I knew all of them."

"Quick tip," Melinda whispered back. "New bra."

Jim's hands moved immediately to the back of her dress. "Can I see it?"

"We should get home instead of doing this on the street," Melinda said finally.

"Probably," Jim said, his hand going to her neck, lifting up her hair and cradling her neck in his hands so he could tip her head back to taste her neck.

"No," she said. "We should, I mean, anyone can see us."

"Let them look, let anyone over sixteen look," Jim murmured. "It won't harm them."

She ducked out from beneath his searching lips and opened her car door. "Get in the other side, or I will," she warned.

His hands fell away from her shoulders and he sighed deeply before going around to the other side.

"Home is too far," he whispered once inside, making no move to start the car and instead leaning over to kiss her neck again.

"Now who's obsessed with necks?" She whispered. "We could go to the store."

"That table in the back room..." Jim began. "Yeah, that should hold our weight."

"Baby makes three," Melinda reminded.

"You haven't gained that much," Jim told her truthfully, starting the car and pulling out, merging into traffic and putting on his left turn signal.

"I have, but bless you for saying it," Melinda murmured.

They reached the store in under two minutes and parked in the back. Jim almost tripped in his eagerness to get to Melinda's door and once he did, their lips met again in a long moment that made Jim think he didn't care if they even made it inside.

"We're making it inside," Melinda told him, reading his mind as he slowly slid the zipper of her dress down.

"Do we have to?" He asked, dipping his head lower to nip at the skin exposed above her dress's neckline.

She let out a breathless gasp as he did so, and it repeated itself when his head grazed lower.

"Yes," she said.

"Fine," he returned, scooped her into his arms and slammed the car door shut.

The short walk to the store's back door was made very long by a lot of unexpected stops, until Jim's arms ached and he reluctantly walked them the rest of the way there. Melinda unlocked the door and Jim let her slide to the floor.

She took off her coat and Jim just watched for a moment as it slid to the floor.

"Well?" She asked, lifting her hair up so he could access the zipper on her dress.

That was when they let themselves go, making clothes fly everywhere as they ripped them from the other's bodies. Melinda had him pressed against the door, her lips and mouth almost glued to his neck, and then he reversed their positions, unsnapping her bra with the smoothest move he'd ever performed on Melinda's undergarments in this whole marriage.

Her stomach was in the way, he vaguely reflected as it got more intense and their thoughts went a bit south. He wasn't sure how to maneuver this while standing up. At home, it was fine. Their bed was very comfortable and adjustable to Melinda's various comfort levels.

But here? He saw that the door going to the front of the store was still open and managed to kick it shut just in time for Melinda to be standing naked in front of him.

She stepped forward, backing him against the door. Her hands played at his neck, making him lower his head to her waiting lips, but she pulled away at the last second. Her lips grazed his neck, and started to suck, harder.

"What are you doing?" He wondered.

"I can't stop thinking about vampires," she whispered, and moved to another spot.

"You do realize that these might show," he managed to say, groaning into the motion.

"You can wear a collared shirt tomorrow," she shot back. "Besides, isn't that my line?" She pointed to the love bites already present on her chest and neck.

He shrugged. "Then we're just even," he agreed. His hands slid to her hips, gripping her nearer to him. "Will this be comfortable for you? Do you really want to do it...here? With you like this?"

"We can manage," she returned. "Vampires do."

"Vampires do what?" He asked. "You don't believe in vampires."

"My pregnancy hormones do," she managed to say before he took control of the embrace, kissing her deeply.

"You came back to me," she whispered.

"Of course I did," he said back, not sure about this change of topic.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he said.

"So I hate to tell you this," she began.

He paused. "What?"

"I'm not horny any more. All of a sudden, it just shut off."

He stopped kissing her, pulling away. "What, everything?"

She was flushed. "I hate to say it, but yeah. I was so into it and then I just wasn't."

"Is this a pregnancy thing?" He asked, pulling away even more so he could look at her.

"I don't know, maybe," she offered.

He sighed. "Okay. Fine. We'll go home."

"I can...help you," she offered, but he shook his head, grabbing his shirt off of the floor.

"We can go home first," he said. He buttoned his shirt slowly, hands almost shaking. God, he was hard.

As he reached the third button from the top, Melinda suddenly inhaled.

"What?" He asked, his hands falling away.

"Your neck," she whispered.

"What about it?" He asked, stepping forward to grab onto her.

Her lips fell on his neck, restarting the whole process. "Jim?" She murmured. "I'm horny again. Just keep your shirt on."


	41. Baby and Us

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

"How long has it been since your last period?"

Melinda looked at the nurse blankly, and then at Jim. Her heart skipped a beat before her brain had quite caught up to what was happening here.

"I don't know. I've been pretty preoccupied." Melinda counted on her fingers, before her heart thudded again, almost painfully.

"Mel, is there...a chance?" Jim whispered.

She nodded blankly, turning to look at him. "I think there is," she managed before looking up at the nurse. "I might be. I don't know."

"Let's get that checked out too, then," she answered. "Come along with me."

* * *

Jim pulled Melinda into his arms, feeling his heart about to burst. "We're going to be parents," he whispered.

"Yeah," she said, and he felt the tears falling from her eyes.

They were both quiet, absorbing it. "After everything," he began.

"I know," Melinda breathed. "After _Sam_."

He held her a little closer. "Mel? I know the time period counts him out...but did you? With him?"

She snuggled more into his chest. "I did," she whispered, voice raw. "I thought it would you back. And he was acting like you and he said something like you'd say..."

"It's...fine," he said. "I mean...it was me. Or should have been. It wasn't Sam. Who was it?" He laughed a bit, before sobering. "What was it like?"

She turned in his arms, gazing up at him, chocolate eyes serious. Her hand moved onto his chest, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt before slipping her hand inside to rest on his heart. His skin was hot. His gaze burned into her.

"It was amazing, it was like our first time," she said slowly, feeling his heart thud dully underneath her hand. "But...I mean...he did things that only you would know to do. Like that spot, on my leg. He almost made me come just by...you know. Like you do."

Jim ducked his head, inhaling the scent of her hair. "So it was almost me."

"Almost," she agreed, before looking up. "That morning was agonizing, though. I...I didn't know how he'd react."

"I hate that you went through that," he said. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have come back sooner. I wish I could forced myself back."

"Oh, god, Jim, don't apologize for anything, and I mean that," she said, pulling him closer. "Never apologize for becoming Sam. It wasn't the best situation but it brought you back. And I'd take a thousand more heartaches if it meant having you, here, now...with this news."

"Oh, Mel," he said, bringing her back into his arms. "I love you, I adore you."

"Show me," she begged, pulling back and pulling her shirt off over her head. "Oh, Jim. Show me."

"You get so emotional when you say Jim," he said. "It's amazing to watch. Like every time..."

"Because I'm so lucky," she said, as he adjusted her in his arms.

"I'm the lucky one," he said soberly. "I am."

* * *

Delia cried. And when Delia cried, Melinda cried too, and soon they were both standing behind the counter in the shop, wiping their eyes.

"It's Jim's?" Delia managed to ask. " _Jim_ Jim's?"

Melinda nodded, pressing her lips together to keep the emotions in.

"Oh, Melinda," Delia said, shaking her head. "You're blessed."

"Protected," Melinda said. "My life is certainly full of miracles."

"I'm going to be a godmother," Delia said, awe in her voice. "Ohmygod, I am, right? Who else would you pick?"

"You will," Melinda vowed. "There's no one else who means...quite as much to me. Delia...your belief is what kept me on this path. Thank you."

"I just wish it hadn't taken me so long," Delia said soberly.

"Don't apologize for whatever you did during...that time," Melinda said. "It was a time of high stress and improbabilities and I don't blame you anymore."

Delia nodded. "It's all forgotten. Speaking of...Jim really doesn't remember?"

"None of it," Melinda frowned. "And...in some ways I want him to. Because it was...fun at times to fall in love with Jim again. And I think he would like to remember those feelings. But...he didn't...he still doesn't know the whole extent of what Sam thought I would have done to get him and I don't him to know how much he...Sam...hurt me."

"Ah," Delia said.

"And he wants to remember what it was like to be dead, too, which is a whole other set of memories that he forgot," Melinda said, wiping tears away. "But whatever. I guess you can't have it all."

"Yeah," Delia said and pulled Melinda into another fierce hug. "Who's gonna be godfather?"

"Eli," Melinda said firmly. "I'd want to ask Rick...but he wasn't here for it. And I don't think he'd come back for it."

"You're so lucky," Delia finished. "Don't forget that."

"How can I, when I'm reminded every single day?" Melinda murmured, under her breath.

* * *

Jim stood in the nursery, at what used to be a spare room. Now it was...a promise. A beautiful promise.

He heard a sound and turned around, seeing Melinda in the doorway. She was in a bathrobe.

"Hey," she greeted. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just...dreaming," he said. "Living in the future for a bit. I can't wait, Mel. I can't wait to hold my child."

"I know," she said.

He couldn't wait, running to her and pressed his hand to her stomach. "When will you start to show? Mel, I can't wait. Until my child starts to kick. When my child starts to recognize our voices."

He got down on his knees, untying her bathrobe and it fell open to reveal her still flat stomach. He pressed a kiss to it and she inhaled sharply.

"We're going to be the most involved, annoying parents ever," Jim said, pressing kisses all over her stomach. "We're going to drive our kid nuts."

"But he or she will love us for it," she said, as he gripped her bare thighs with his hands to anchor himself. "Jim."

"What?" he asked.

"You're doing it on purpose," she murmured.

He wondered if she could also feel the smile on his face as he started to kiss lower...and lower...

* * *

"I kind of want custard," Melinda announced, randomly, on their way home from church; something they'd started doing again after Jim came back. It felt right.

"What kind?" Jim asked. "After lunch? That'd be great."

"No, now," Melinda said. "Turn here."

He glanced at her, startled. "Okay."

"I want chocolate with marshmallow fluff on top," she began. "No. Brownies. Both. And hot fudge sauce. Oh, or caramel. No, butterscotch."

"Hold on," he begged, starting from the car. "What kind?"

"No, I better come in," she said, and he hurried around to her side to help her. "You'll never remember it. Does this place charge for more than six toppings?"

"Six?" Jim asked, trailing behind her, until she reached the doorway of the shop and stopped suddenly. He walked into her, grabbing her arms to steady himself. "What's the matter, Mel?"

"Let's get pizza instead," she announced and changed directions, speed walking to the pizza parlor.

This would be interesting.

* * *

She was showing.

She had had to buy all new jeans last week, and she already busting out of one of them.

Her breasts were huge, and it wasn't even funny or sexy anymore (though Jim still found it to be a huge turn on.)

No shirts fit. They all went down to her stomach and then kind of rolled up.

So she was stuck with dresses. Which she usually loved. Until she didn't.

She sagged against the wall, staring bleakly at her closet.

Jim came in. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to wear," she sighed.

He moved towards her, his hands falling to her stomach as if by default, cradling it, palms spread wide over it in a protective stance.

"I like it," he said, his head slowly falling to her breasts, which were exploding out of her last bra that clipped in the back. She moaned as his hand snaked around to the back, unclipping it.

"I have to work," she managed.

"That's okay, I don't," he whispered, as the bra fell to the floor. "Oh, god, Mel. Did you know your breasts are bigger?"

"Yeah," she said, but suddenly it wasn't a bad thing, as Jim turned her, pushing her onto the bed.

Not a bad thing at all.

* * *

It was in the middle of the night the first time it happened. She was sleeping and then she wasn't. Suddenly she was wide awake and had no idea why.

And then she felt it.

A feathery feeling inside. Something moving.

Someone.

"Baby," she whispered, staying whisper still. She remembered expectant mothers talking about how their babies only moved once they were asleep. So she didn't want to jinx it. "Oh, baby."

Jim stirred next to her. "What's up, Mel?"

"Our child is moving," she said, and he was awake, his hands on her stomach, pushing her shirt up.

She giggled. "I don't think I'm far enough along that you can feel it too," she said. "Ooh, there's more."

"I wish I was a woman," he sighed, his hands staying where they were. "I love you, Mel."

"I love you too. Ooh, another," she squeaked.

They stayed up way too late, just counting movements.

* * *

She was getting big. Really big.

"It's a kick," she announced, and Jim laid a hand on her stomach.

"Another one? Boy, this car ride made him active," he commented.

"Or she," she cautioned.

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed, and exclaimed as baby made another kick. "Whoa, that was powerful! Did that hurt?"

"A bit, but nothing major," she said. "I'm too excited."

"You look amazing," he breathed.

"Do I?" She asked anxiously. "I didn't fit into the dress I bought, even though it's third trimester clothing and I'm barely out of the second."

"Mel, don't worry about it," he said, his eyes falling to her exposed cleavage. "Seriously, you look fine."

"You always say that," she grumbled.

"I always mean it," he said. "And if there's a closet along the way..."

"There isn't," she said, but the smile in her voice told him he'd succeeded in boosting her spirits.

* * *

"It's a boy," Melinda reflected, pacing across the floor.

"I know you didn't want to find out," Jim repeated, but Melinda could only shake her head.

"I don't care what I didn't care about," she whispered, whirling to face him. "It's a boy. We're having a son."

She ran forward and threw her arms around him, and he spun her around, gently.

"I couldn't believe it, I didn't know how I'd keep it from you, oh, god, Melinda," Jim said. "I'm going to be the father of a boy."

"I know," she said, tears in her eyes. "This is life changing. We can plan so many things. Oh, Jim. We can talk names now."

He felt his heart jump.

"I like Patrick," she began. "But I don't know."

"Aiden," he whispered. "My dad's name."

She looked up at him, surprised. "Oh, I don't know about Aiden. But we can keep that in our idea pot."

Jim nodded, knowing that the idea was lost forever. That was okay. Melinda would pick something amazing.

* * *

She was in her last month and moody as hell.

Jim came home from a too-long day of studying and found her sitting on the bottom step of the stairs.

"What's up, Mel?" He asked.

"It was hot inside," she said, taking a drink of water.

"We've got an AC," he said.

"It was too cold with it on," she sighed, fanning herself a little in the evening breeze.

He sat down beside her. It was past ten at night, and it was dark but for the light of a brilliant moon. Melinda was wearing a loose nightgown.

"Want to go inside now?" He asked after a few minutes of moon gazing.

"Mm, not really," she said. "He's keeping me up. I'm not going to be able to sleep so I don't want to try. I...you know I'm excited for him and love him, but can't he freaking hurry it on up?"

Jim laughed, putting his arm around her. "I think all expectant mothers feel that sentiment at one time or another," he comforted. "Come on. Up we go."

She sighed and let him pull her up, until she was standing and her stomach collided with his granite hard abs.

"Kiss me," she said and he maneuvered to her side so that he could lean in.

She met the kiss with enthusiasm, pouring her all into it; all the frustration of his pregnancy, all the joys, all the sweetness...everything.

Jim swept her into his arms with a bit of a grunt. "Ready to go up?" He asked.

"Can we try our new version of sex again?" She wondered, her lips falling on his neck and sucking at it, hard.

"You bet," he agreed.

* * *

Their last night.

Melinda was convinced it was her last night pregnant.

Jim stared at his barely sleeping wife and yawned himself, trying to get comfortable.

It had been a long time since they'd first learned about the baby. He was finally comfortable in his new skin. He could finally hear the name Sam Lucas and not be startled, though at least it was Jim Lucas now.

It still freaked him out, even as he responded to it. He looked at Melinda again, finally asleep. Her huge stomach was poking into his side, and he felt the jab of the baby's foot when he placed his hand on her stomach, resting it there.

"You're ready too," he whispered. "Oh, baby. I can't wait."


	42. Dance, Part 1

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Yes, another dancing one. Maybe cause JLH knows such killer moves.

* * *

Jim was early. He moved onto one of stools at the bar, ordering a beer and receiving it a moment later.

He wasn't sure why he was here. His friend had called, telling him it'd be fun, so he'd agreed to go.

His mind wasn't on his friends though; it was on Melinda Gordon.

She was mad at him. They'd only been dating for a few months; they'd had a few fights, but he'd always known before now what they were about. Now he just didn't know.

He looked out at the dance floor and took another drink of beer when he felt a clap on his shoulder and turned to see Patrick standing there. "Hey, man, you made it!" Patrick called over the pounding beat. "Is Melinda here too?"

"I think we're fighting," Jim called back.

"What about?" Patrick wondered. "Her fault or yours? Dude, just apologize. Sierra loves me when I apologize."

Jim reflected on the fact that Patrick had changed girlfriends about six times in the few months that Jim had dated Melinda, and vowed to take no advice from his friend.

"I'm not even sure," he admitted. "But she's not here."

"Well, whatever," Patrick said. "Sierra isn't either so let's just have some fun tonight, huh?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "Lots of fun."

"I'm going to dance," Patrick said. "Join me after you've been drinking longer."

Obviously frustrated with Jim's lack of response and willingness to play wingman, Patrick shouldered through the crowd, leaving Jim at the counter.

"Girl trouble?" The female bartender asked, her pierced lip painful to even look at.

"How could you tell?" Jim asked.

"You aren't gay, so it has to be a girl," she answered.

"Well, that's a pretty good deduction." Jim sighed. "I don't know why she's mad."

"Then let's figure it out," she answered. "When did you first know she was mad?"

"Yesterday; we were fine before then," Jim said.

"Okay, so what were you talking about yesterday?" She wondered.

"Dinner plans, so it really doesn't make sense," Jim said. "I was talking all about how I wanted to talk her out dancing, and we could go to some seafood place after."

"Is she a vegetarian?" The bartender asked, skillfully making another beer and slinging to a grabbing patron.

"No," Jim said.

"So she's not mad at you for that," she replied.

"Hey, Molly, give me the key," another bartender requested and Molly reached in a drawer, still talking.

"Because no self respecting vegetarian eats seafood," Molly said. "Something my mother seriously can't grasp. Yes, it counts as animal. No, I'm not going to your Friday fish fry."

"She's not vegetarian and she loves seafood," Jim repeated.

"Did you have previous plans for that night?" Molly called.

"Definitely not, we were just trying to brainstorm things," Jim answered.

"So...dancing. What club were you suggesting?" Molly said.

"No specific club," Jim said. "Just dancing."

"And what had happened with your girlfriend earlier that day? Do you know? Maybe it's not even you." Molly rolled her eyes. "I hate to even suggest it but maybe she was on her period."

"No, I mean, I know she doesn't have her period," Jim said.

"That close, huh?" Molly asked slyly and Jim found himself nodding. "She's a lucky girl. Not many guys care to have that kind of knowledge."

"She gets horny on her period," Jim found himself telling her. "So we...you know."

"She really is lucky," Molly cooed. "Not many men are willing to do that. Not many women either." She looked at Jim in admiration. "I guess not many women want to on their period. Damn."

Jim sighed, feeling a flush on his cheeks.

"Well, my shift is almost over so I have to leave you on your own," Molly said. "I do have one more suggestion, though."

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"Ask her why she's mad," Molly said. "The answer might surprise you. Have fun."

With that, she untied her towel apron and slid out from under the bar door, patting his shoulder.

Jim watched her go before taking another drink of beer. Damn it.

Thinking of Patrick, he thought he'd at least say goodbye before leaving, and slid from the stool, heading straight for the dance floor. The beat was sick. He found himself bouncing to it in spite of himself; Jim was no dancer but there were some songs that could even have his mother dancing.

This was one of them.

He started moving back and forth; a brunette spun into him, and smiled. "Dance with me!" She called.

"I've got a girlfriend," he called back.

"So do I!" She exclaimed. "So we're good. Come on; purely platonically. I love this song and she hates it so I can't even admit to liking it around her."

He smiled and moved onto the floor with her. The beat had him lifting his feet in moves he wasn't sure about, but from the look on her face, he didn't look too bad.

He threw his arms up and she imitated him. Damn, she was good. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a professional, or at least trying.

"You dance for a living?" He wondered.

"I try," she replied cheekily. "Take off your jacket. You'll get it all sweaty."

He found himself obeying her, holding it tight in his hand as they danced, spinning around each other.

"Try this," she instructed, moving her feet quickly.

He was imitating her, and it was fun. The alcohol was also taking effect and he threw his jacket away, with any remaining inhibitions. They were grinding into each other, both grinning. They made good partners for each other; she was a good height for him, he could recognize that despite lack of prior experience.

He threw one hand up, and she copied the move, smiling wide.

The song ended and she threw her arms around him. "You made my night," she whispered, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jim grinned after her, fetched his jacket and came up from the crouch to grab it to find piercing brown eyes on him.

"Melinda?" He mouthed, standing up.

She was standing on the edge of the floor, just staring at him.

And then she was leaving, running away.

* * *

A/N: Perhaps...International Love by Pitbull. Or pretty much anything by Pitbull.


	43. Reacquainted

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Melinda didn't get jealous. Or at least that's what she told herself as she watched what her husband was doing currently.

She didn't get jealous, not usually, not like this. Not so quickly or passionately. But usually, Jim's old girlfriends didn't just sit in her kitchen (their kitchen) barely clothed and unbelievably friendly to Jim. Well, to Melinda too, after a rather frosty smile after learning that Melinda was Jim's wife now. Now. As if she'd met Melinda before, which Jim had said she had.

 _"You remember Hillary, right?"_

At the risk of saying no and possibly hearing some sordid story of Jim's past (when on earth would Melinda have met any of his girlfriends when he and Melinda were dating? She decidedly didn't remember that) so she was stuck saying yes and gradually turning into wallpaper as the evening went on, and Jim and Hillary talked about vague memories and things that Melinda was no longer listening or paying attention to. And that was when it happened. A ghost appeared.

Melinda straightened like she'd been shot, and Jim didn't even notice. Said ghost was short, curvy and, except for being blonde, was extremely similar to Melinda in body type. Melinda stiffened. Surely this wasn't another of Jim's exes, pulled in by Hillary's appearance. Her hair was chopped short in a pixie cut and she wore jeans a la 2004 or so. Hmm. It was funny; the more someone dressed in the fashions of the day, the more dated they got.

Melinda watched as Pixie weaved between Hillary and Jim, not even noticing Melinda. She was staring at Hillary, almost hungrily. That settled it. She must be one of Jim's jealous exes. Wow. Two in one day.

Pixie stalked around the two, staring first at Jim—so intently and thoroughly that it made Melinda uncomfortable on Jim's behalf—and then at Hillary, shaking her head as if wondering what he saw in her.

Melinda finally cleared her throat and three pairs of eyes swung to look at her.

"Need any tea, guys?" She wondered, standing up and straightening a nonexistent wrinkle in her sundress. "And you must be really uncomfortable on those kitchen stools. Why don't you move to the living room?"

Jim and Hillary looked at her (was that gratefully?), standing up to move to the living room.

"I'd love some tea," Hillary said, stretching a little. "What kinds do you have?"

Melinda showed her their collection; a large one since they tended to get it as gifts and, while Melinda definitely appreciated a cuppa occasionally, neither she nor Jim were truly 'tea drinkers'.

Hillary cooed over the selection as Jim slung an arm around Melinda, dropping a kiss on her head. "Hey, thanks for being so great," he murmured, briefly ducking his head to nuzzle her neck, making her shiver. "Hillary did a lot for our relationship, you know."

 _Our?_ Melinda again stiffened, wondering what on earth Jim meant, but Hillary had made her selection and Jim was leading her to the living room, leaving Melinda behind with the tea kettle and a bad mood. Oh, and the ghost.

Pixie was about to follow them but Melinda spoke.

"I can see you," she said quietly. "That's why I told Jim and Hillary to leave."

Pixie stalked back over to Melinda. "I thought they were done with each other," she said first, angrily. "And yet the first thing I see is them chatting. I am so sick of this."

"Jim's my husband, you know," Melinda said. "So..."

"The way they look at each other always drove me nuts," Pixie said simply. "It doesn't matter who's married to who. It was always like this. It doesn't even matter who Hillary was even dating at the time. I thought she was done with Jim."

She slumped into a chair next to Melinda. "How do you stand it?"

"I've never heard her name mentioned in the years we've been married, so I think Jim and I are doing just fine," Melinda said, shrugging.

"Years?" Pixie wondered. "God. I know I'm dead, but years?"

"Three," Melinda said simply. "Three great years."

Pixie sighed. "I miss her."

The line puzzled Melinda, but she shrugged it off. "Don't you want to cross over?"

"I have something to say first," Pixie said. "There have been chances but none that I've wanted to take. Hey. You can talk to ghosts and people."

"Yep," Melinda said, not annoyed by Pixie as she was by Hillary. "Listen, I'm Melinda, just in case you didn't catch that. You are...?"

"Olivia," Pixie, now Olivia, said. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for doing this for me."

"I guess you want to talk to Jim," Melinda sighed, pouring Hillary's cup of tea.

"I mean, that wouldn't hurt," Olivia said. "And he's got to know that you talk to ghosts so this is no big deal."

"Yeah, of course, we'll just wait for Hillary to leave," Melinda said, taking out Hillary's tea bag.

"Why would we do that?" Olivia wondered.

Melinda paused. "You want to talk to both of them?"

"Well, I don't want to wait for Hillary to leave!" Olivia exclaimed. "What would be the point in that?"

Okay. Olivia wanted a confrontation. Melinda could handle that.

"Got it," Melinda said. "Well, come on in. I'll broach the subject and then you can tell me what you want to say."

"Okay, good," Olivia agreed. Now that it was confirmed, she began to look nervous. "What if I say the wrong thing?"

"You won't, just tell what you feel," Melinda said. "Come on, Liv."

Olivia grinned and then said something else that puzzled Melinda. "She used to call me that too."

Melinda walked in and carefully handed Hillary her mug, before settling into the armchair opposite of Hillary and Jim on the couch. Olivia stood behind the couch, looking hungrily at the two people situated there.

"Hey, Jim," Melinda said. "Olivia called."

Whatever reaction she was expecting, it wasn't what she got. Jim's face was utterly blank. He obviously didn't catch on that Melinda was talking about a ghost.

Hillary, however, turned her eyes on Jim. "You know someone else named Olivia?" She wondered.

"No, just Liv," Jim said. Then his eyes widened a little.

"Not the usual kind of call," Melinda urged.

Jim nodded, pointing behind him and then Melinda nodded.

"Oh, Hill, she stuck around to talk to you," Jim told Hillary.

"What?" Hillary asked.

"What?" Melinda wondered.

There was a moment of silence.

"Melinda can talk to the dead," Jim said. "And Olivia is...here with us."

Harriet set her tea cup down, looking confused and wary.

"Tell her that midnight is long gone," Olivia said, her eyes suddenly dancing.

"Um, Olivia says that midnight is long gone," Melinda began.

Harriet seemed to choke on air, staring around her. "She's here? Oh god. She has to be, with that line."

"What does it mean?" Melinda wondered.

"It goes back to when I was a teenager; sneaking out," Hillary said, tears in her eyes. "She means I have to stop hiding. Midnight has come and gone and I survived it."

Melinda looked quizzically at the two women, one a ghost and one human, both confusing her more by the second.

"Do you have something to say to Jim?" Melinda asked.

"Not now, not anymore," Olivia said emphatically. "I know it was just platonic."

"What was platonic?" Melinda asked.

"What's she saying?" Hillary asked, standing up and looking around her. "Listen, Liv, I never got to tell you that night."

Melinda began to realize that she was missing something, but she still wasn't sure what.

"Tell her that I know," Olivia said.

"She says she knows," Melinda began.

"How long she was looking for me," Olivia continued. "I was there."

"She was with you as you looked for her," Melinda said.

"Oh, god," Hillary said, crumpling back onto the couch, tears in her eyes.

"What about Jim?" Melinda hissed at Olivia. "Aren't you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Olivia wondered.

Melinda noticed that Jim was staring at her, brow quirked. "I don't need to talk to her," he hedged.

"Tell her...can she hear me?" Hillary asked.

"She can," Melinda said.

"It broke my heart when I found you like I did," Hillary said. "But I understood why. I hated you in that moment, but Liv, I couldn't fathom ever loving you more."

Melinda felt her heart thud against her rib cage. Oh crap.

"And I hate that you saw me and Jim dancing like that. I hate that you thought it was real that time."

"I know that it wasn't," Olivia said. "I know."

"She says she knows it wasn't real," Melinda told Hillary and Hillary smiled through the pain.

"My rent check had just bounced," Olivia said. "And I couldn't afford my prescription. You know how it went."

"Her, uh, rent check bounced and she couldn't buy her prescription," Melinda said.

"Oh, Liv, I am so sorry," Hillary said, tears coming steadily down, but the sobs were over. She was calm. "I remember it, you know. When we met."

"I do too," Olivia urged. "Tell her it was raining and we were late for Lit class with Professor Horine."

"You were running through the rain, late for Lit with Horine," Melinda began.

Hillary nodded urgently. "I looked through the droplets and there you were, soaked to the skin and miserable. I loved you then, Liv."

"I saw you coming through the rain; you looked like my savior," Olivia admitted. "Tall and you had an umbrella."

"She thought you were her savior. You were so tall and you had an umbrella," Melinda began. "And you offered it to her."

"I got completely soaked, but I didn't care," Hillary nodded, reaching out in the air next to her. "Liv, I wanted to have a long life with you. I swear I did."

"I know," Olivia whispered. "I wanted it too."

"She wanted it too," Melinda said, her voice quiet.

As the two continued to converse, barely needing Melinda now, she met Jim's eyes.

* * *

"Weren't you listening? Didn't you recognize Hillary?" Jim asked as he shut the door behind Hillary, after Olivia had crossed over.

"I don't know, I mean, I don't know," Melinda repeated helplessly. "I thought she was your ex."

"No, we danced together that one time," Jim said, raking a hand through his hair. "And you saw us and you were mad, and it took forever to convince you that it was a one time thing, and then I met Hillary again and we danced together again and then I met her the day after we danced again, and I learned that her girlfriend...had died during the night."

"Oh, god," Melinda whispered.

"I tried to help her through it, so that's why she looked me up when she came to Grandview for her convention," Jim said. "We remembered each other, tried to stay in touch."

"I thought she was your ex," Melinda said.

"You weren't listening to a word we were saying," Jim accused.

She hung her head. "Guilty," she breathed. "I'm sorry. She was just wearing that stupid mini dress and I lost it."

"You were jealous," Jim said, stepping closer. "Of a woman who does mean a lot to me, but not in that way. Never like that, Mel."

"I'm sorry," Melinda repeated. "It was stupid, what can I say?"

He sighed. "If you'd listened..." He trailed off. "At least we saved face in front of them. God, you wouldn't believe the story of Liv and Hill's romance. That midnight thing? It has to do with her parents. Coming out."

He put his hands on his hips. "I need to finish the dinner dishes," he said.

"I can do that," Melinda offered lamely, but Jim was already ducking off.

"Go to bed," he replied.

* * *

A/N: I'm going to get an extended M version up on AO3 later, but I'm running out of time right now. And yes, there's still a part II to Dance coming up, though as you may have guessed, Hillary was Jim's dancing partner.


	44. Goodbye? (First)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

Aiden was cuddled close in her arms, and Melinda could only stare at her tiny, perfect son.

And he was safe. Nothing had happened during the birth...well, nothing lasting.

She never wanted to get out of this armchair, she never thought she'd need to again. She had her baby, and that was all she needed. She'd just live out the rest of her life in this chair, wondering at the gift in her arms. He was so obviously her child. Her child and Jim's. Tears filled her eyes briefly, and she wiped them away.

This was no time for tears. This was a time of joy. It was her first day home alone with him; Jim had gone back to school today after taking a few weeks off to be with them. Well, he'd had to go in for some exams but he'd been home for the rest of it, taking care of her, running errands, making sure she was well rested.

Melinda gazed around the nursery, unable to imagine ever wanting to leave this room again. Delia was doing so well at the shop, and she knew that her friend appreciated the extra hours now that Ned was working part time. So it was really working perfectly for everyone.

The doorbell rang, and she considered ignoring it. It was probably just a delivery man.

But something inside of her made her carefully settle Aiden into his crib, hating herself for leaving him, and make the trip downstairs.

She was dressed in a loose denim shirt of Jim's over forgiving postpartum leggings and a tunic top that made breastfeeding effortless.

She opened the door just as it rang a second time, and nothing could have prepared her for who was waiting there.

"Rick," she said, exhaling sharply.

"Melinda," he said simply, his eyes saying so much, as they always could. He was so tan. Tan, and fit again, muscles defining his body.

"You look good," she said, too surprised to conceal her surprise.

"Yeah, I haven't wasted away from malaria yet. It's a miracle, right?" He questioned. "Um. Can I get a hug? I'm not contagious, I promise."

"I was so surprised..." She trailed off, stepping forward into his arms. It felt so odd to touch him, like he'd stepped in from the past, like she wasn't herself anymore, like she didn't have a child upstairs. "So much has happened. Seeing you...it's like going in a time machine."

"I haven't been gone that long," he said, his arms surprisingly strong and tight around her. "What could have happened?"

She considered how to begin, and shook her head. "Oh, wow, I can't even list it."

"Try," he said, smiling a crooked smile as he pulled away. "I love to watch you talk."

She laughed self consciously, before realizing that he was being dead serious. "Yeah, okay. Um. Jim died, he came back in another body and now we have a son."

To Rick's credit, the look of shock on his face quickly evaporated. "So just a normal day in your life, huh?"

"Exactly," she said, unable to believe that she was laughing over such a painful period in her life. And yet, it was over. It had been hard, but it had brought so many blessings with it.

"I guess you're right, we can go more into that later," Rick murmured. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said, stepping aside. "You know what? I'm just going to get Aiden."

"Of course," he said.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, gesturing to the chairs in the living room.

She hurried up the stairs, unable to resist taking a peek at herself in the mirror. God, she looked awful. Her hair was in a sloppy bun and she looked like a wreck in these clothes. But, by the grace of Jim, she looked well rested.

She picked up Aiden, not wanting to settle in for a long conversation if he wasn't with her, and made her way down the stairs, settling onto the couch.

Rick watched her carefully. "He's a newborn?"

"Six weeks," she answered, settling him into the crook of her arms. "We're inseparable."

"I'll bet," he said, carefully sitting next to her. "I always knew you'd make a good mom. You had that touch."

"Really? I'm still so insecure," she admitted. "I just hope that babies can survive on love, because I know I love him enough. Maybe too much. He's the last part I have of Jim."

"Maybe you should explain that part a little better," he said, and she found herself starting the story easily.

It hurt, to remember. It was like how a gunshot wound ached in bad weather or whatever. Just a dull ache to remind you that it existed. But she pushed past it, telling the whole story, and Rick was just shaking his head.

"That's incredible," he said. "Jim took such a huge leap."

"I know," she managed. "I can't...I don't know why I deserve such...devotion."

"I do," he whispered. "If I were Jim...I wouldn't be able to leave you either."

"But you did," she said, suddenly dead sober. "You left me, Rick. I needed you."

He wet his lips, avoiding her gaze. "It just hurt too much," he began.

"What?" She asked, feeling tears in her voice again.

"Loving you," he said, voice as raw as hers.

Aiden was stirring at her breast, trying to get a meal, and Melinda felt tears overwhelm her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. "He's hungry," she deflected, and decided to ignore all inhibitions, yanked aside her tunic and placed him at her nipple. To Rick's credit, he looked away until her denim shirt covered her somewhat.

"Why would you love me?" She managed to say.

"Don't pretend you don't feel something for me," he said. "More than friendship. A little...what could have been."

She managed to tilt her head, looking away from him. "I wouldn't say I do, but I wouldn't say I don't," she hedged. "You meant so much to me. You accepted me, Rick, and that process between us...it can't be matched. I feel a certain amount of...emotion whenever I think of you. Sometimes it overwhelms me. But...Rick..."

"You missed me," he settled on. "At least." His eyes darted around the room, ignoring her.

"I missed you like nothing else," she said. "Until Jim. But I missed him in a different way. He didn't want to leave. Rick...you chose to."

"I had reasons," he said. "Ones I just told you."

They couldn't look at each other anymore. It just hurt too much.

"It makes you like my father..." She began, clearing her throat. "Remember when you said that you were my friend and him hurting me was not okay with you? So why did you turn around and leave me during such a vulnerable time?"

"Because it was hurting me to the point where I couldn't...couldn't stay," he said.

There was a palpable tension in the room. Melinda could barely breathe properly; she just wanted to cry and cry.

And then Jim walked in.

Rick stared at the man. "Who's...oh. You must be Jim."

Jim stared back. "Wow. Rick Payne."

Utter, complete silence. The two men stared at each other, Jim noticing briefly that Melinda was comfortable enough to be nursing Aiden in front of Rick. She saw the surprise in his eyes, which he quickly toned down.

"You look different," Rick said.

"Yeah, I changed a lot," Jim admitted. "But it's still me."

"So Melinda was just telling me," Rick said. "Um. I'm just in town on a layover."

Melinda's gaze shot to him in surprise and disappointment. "You didn't say that," she accused.

Jim watched the exchange, and she could tell he was considering whether or not to be worried about her, or as angry with Rick as she was.

"I didn't want...I don't know," he said. He stood up. "Melinda, can I just say goodbye to you outside?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll give Aiden to Jim."

He left the room. Jim stared at her. "What's this all about?" He wondered. "Am I missing something?"

She noticed how his eyes fell to her breasts as Aiden's head fell away and she fastened her shirt again, quickly standing and handing Aiden over. "Burp him, will you?" She asked. "If he's leaving...I just need to get everything said."

He stared at her, but took his son and let her go.

She ran down the sidewalk to where Rick was leaving, again. He was standing by a taxi; god, couldn't she have noticed that the first time?

"You're doing it again," she accused.

"I just wanted to see you again," he defended.

"That's not enough," she said. "I miss you."

"You don't need me, not with a husband like Jim, who did what he did for you," Rick shouted back. "Do you think anyone's ever cared for _me_ like that?"

"I did," Melinda whispered, voice raw. "I would do anything to rescue you, Rick, but only if I thought I could. You're too far gone."

He just looked at her, hurt and angry, just like she was.

And then he left, not looking back. She wondered if she'd ever see him again. She wondered if she wanted to.

And then she went inside, to Jim. To Aiden.


	45. Hello (Second)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

At first, she didn't realize that there was anything special about that date, but when she looked at the calendar the next day, in the middle of burping Aiden, she realized something that made her heart skip a rather painful beat.

September 15. The day Rick Payne had learned everything about her, the day she'd told him everything, sitting on her porch steps.

She sagged against the wall. So _that_ was why he came. She couldn't believe it. He was not the type to like being thought of as sentimental. He didn't want people to know that he cared, not enough to remember dates.

She bit her lip, lost in thoughts, remembering those first few months with Payne, until Aiden's cry startled her into paying attention to her son again.

"Sorry, honey," she apologized, and settled him into his crib. He was such a good boy. He slept so easily.

* * *

That first year with Aiden went by too quickly for Melinda's tastes. First she was head over heels by the fact that he could hold his neck upright, then she was freaking out over him getting a tooth, to sitting up, to crawling...he was walking at ten months. And Melinda wasn't sure how to fell about that. He was entirely too independant, always wanting to get somewhere _faster_ and easier than waiting for his mom to pick him up.

She lost the baby weight, something that surprised her. The first few months had been full of love and happiness and weight loss was the literally the last thing on her mind, but then Delia suggested a Mommy and Me workout class and Melinda had ended up losing twenty pounds. And that was more than welcome, if she admitted it to herself. Though Jim had loved her through thick and thin, beyond literally, and thought she was most beautiful postpartum, he also loved the empowerment that losing that extra weight had given her.

She purchased a bikini for that summer, something she'd thought to never do again, and they spent many a lazy summer afternoon outside by the inflatable kiddy pool, Melinda keeping a sharp watch on Aiden, Jim doing frenetic studying as he crammed in ever more classes so that he could become a doctor ASAP instead of waiting around.

They still made time for sex. Sometimes his books would just from his hands when Melinda crouched down to pick up Aiden, bikini clad body calling to him. The ever secure fastenings on her bikinis turned into string under Jim Clancy's fingers and Melinda was reminded what circumstances prompted Aiden's conception. She wanted more kids, she decided, one particularly hot summer day spent underneath the tree in their backyard. The neighbors were away and Melinda was topless, Jim occasionally pressing a kiss to her breasts as he turned pages in his textbook. Pretty soon he'd lost interest; pretty soon they would be making out feverishly, and Aiden, napping in a very secure stroller that shielded him from the sun perfectly, would ignore all the sounds of his parents' lovemaking.

He was used to it, after all. Even as exhausted as Jim was from all the studying, he'd still somehow have the energy to make love to his wife, night after night. It was a beautiful time.

The summer passed. Fall classes started again and Jim was staring at a potential residency. He was off in his own world and suddenly it was September 15 again. Melinda was minding the shop; Delia was off checking out colleges for next year with Ned.

Aiden was crawling around, pretty soon she'd put him down for a nap in the vintage crib she'd scrubbed off and made presentable and safe. It was a great advertisement to have a real baby inside it; she'd been through about three of similar cribs through placing Aiden down for a nap in them. She had a feeling that she wouldn't sell this one, though.

The door of the shop creaked open just as she swung Aiden into her arms; he was getting too close to a display.

She turned around to give welcome and there was Rick Payne.

She had looked at the date earlier and wondered if he'd show up again, quickly discounting any possibility and dismissing the date as unimportant to him now, after last year.

Like last year, he had changed. There were more muscles, lean and undefined but definitely there, present on his body. He was unbelievably tanned; the digs were doing wonders for his looks.

"Rick," she said, finding a smile on her face. She literally had no idea why she'd be happy to see him.

"Still the happy mother," he commented. "Madonna and child."

"Not really," she said. "He's getting so mischievous. All he wants to do is run away as fast as possible."

"Walking at a year?" He asked, looking at Aiden with a bit of wonder. Melinda remembered how eagerly he'd looked forward to possible fatherhood a few years ago, and her heart ached for him further when she remembered the struggle he'd had with Kate. He should have had that chance to be a father.

"Ten months actually," she said slyly.

"He's his father's son," he said dryly, as she put Aiden down for a nap. "Still sleeps though, huh?"

"Sometimes," she said, tucking him in.

The afternoon sun beat in on them through the large bay window. Melinda stared at him. "Another layover?"

"Yeah, I...wanted to see you," he said, following her when she walked to stand behind the counter, and leaning on it, just looking at her. "You lost weight. The baby weight and then some. I've never seen you so..."

"Slender?" She cracked.

"Fit," he finished. "You were always so soft, in a very good way, Melinda. I don't know what to do with you when you have sharp angles."

"Is that a compliment?" She wondered, staring at him.

"Maybe," he said. "You were beautiful before, Melinda. Your legs always looked fuck—fantastic when I knew you. But now there's this lean confidence to them that I've never seen before and god, it's making me horny."

"Anything would make you horny," she shot back, loving falling back into witty repartee with him.

"Anything including you," he corrected. "Anything with you."

She was smiling, and so was he.

"We were angry last year," he began, after a long moment basking in the quiet enjoyment of each other's company, and the emotions and reactions they brought out in each other so easily. "Can't we put the past behind us? Wait. Screw that. The past is what makes us what we are, this relationship what it is, completely dysfunctional and crazy but so beautiful and giving."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I think we got a lot off of our chests. I don't want to forget any of it."

"Yeah, it would be a pity to forget anything involving your chest," Rick cracked and she whacked him, her strapless sundress getting his attention all over again.

"You look amazing," he finally said. "Angles and all."

"So do you," she said. "These digs have been good for you. I like seeing muscle on your skinny arms."

"Ha ha," he said, then flexed, rolling his sleeve up. "Okay, yeah, I do too. I look so much hotter now."

"Don't use the word hot, you're too old," she said.

They both exhaled, looking at each other again, calmly and easily.

"Jim's becoming a doctor, right?" Rick asked, suddenly starting to edge towards the door.

"Yeah," Melinda said.

"Well, when I finally contract malaria, I'll come back and make him treat me," Rick said. "Can I...get a hug for the road?"

She nodded, stepping out from behind the counter.

It was different to hug him this time. He was holding her loosely, like he'd be ready to let her go, and when she pulled away, he let her go easily. Too easily.

"I'll be back, sometime," Rick said.

"This is our anniversary," Melinda began. "Rick, you have to come next year."

"Oh, I'm not making promises, cause you'll plan me some stupid party and I don't want that," Rick said, eyes cautious.

"I won't plan a party," she vowed. "So promise me you'll come back every September 15."

He just shrugged, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Goodbye, Melinda Gordon."

* * *

That night, at home with Jim, she found herself all over him. He was tired from classes and messing about with supervisors trying to figure out a schedule but he welcomed Melinda's attentions, and the sex was beyond mind blowing. She was putting her all into it, and really trying.

At the end, he was lying on his back, and she was cuddled against his chest.

"Did Rick come by again this year?" Jim asked lazily.

She knew better than to be surprised. Jim noticed everything.

"He did," she answered.

"I'm glad," he replied. "And I thought so. You always want more sex when he's been by."

"It's all about repressed emotions," she admitted.

"Just get it out, I don't mind," Jim said, rubbing his hand up her arm. "You need him in your life. Someone to battle with."

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest.

"For what?" He wondered.

"Understanding," she said, her hand moving downwards and starting the whole process over again.

* * *

A/N: So this series is a sort of compromise. I don't want to get into season 5 Jimel cause I hate what I've seen so far (ugh parenting and Melinda being a mom) but I do want to have this period in their lives.


	46. Forget (Third)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

The next year went past in a blur. Aiden was still trying to walk everywhere, and now he was trying to talk to everyone he met, repeating what he heard Jim say, and asking all who passed 'how's your day' in his delicious baby voice.

He was calling them Mommy and Dad, which Melinda and Jim had called each other briefly so that he wouldn't call them Melinda and Jim, which would be cute, but not something they wanted their child to learn. He definitely still called Melinda 'Mel' sometimes, and she'd always look at Jim in that moment, feeling her heart melt.

She was making an extra effort to read to him, to get him interested in books. She knew distinctly that this was something that had been missing from her childhood, and she wanted to make sure he grew up loving books, and didn't come into later in life. She tried to make it to the Grandview Library once a week, checking out whole shelves of picture books, and making sure Aiden got read to every day, and more than just bedtime stories. She kept some children's books in the shop now, and whenever there was a slow moment she'd pull one out, trying to get him more engaged in verbal storytelling than TV or movies, or, even worse, computers.

She wasn't anti electronics but she didn't want to raise a child hooked on one and she found herself limiting her own computer time. Facebook was getting more popular and it was harder to ignore the siren call to check it, but she firmly kept herself at twice a day: once in the morning and once at night. No more, even on slow days.

Ghosts were always around. Delia's worth to Melinda had tripled when it became obvious that one of Delia's favorite things to do, bar nothing, was babysit Aiden. She'd wanted more kids with Charlie, she regretted that Ned didn't have siblings, and it was the best part of Delia's day (her friend enthused) when Melinda was away ghost hunting and she got to take care of Aiden.

Speaking of ghosts...Aiden could see them. Which was a guarantee. Most children could see ghosts.

Melinda knew it would be a lot longer before she'd know if he'd keep this gift. Gift. She scoffed at the thought, remembering that that was how she always introduced it. _I have a gift._

It had finally become a gift in her eyes. She was finally able to think of it like that.

But she didn't want to put Aiden through that process, those lonely years of figuring it out, wrestling with it. She didn't want that for him. She wouldn't do anything to prevent it, to make him doubt in himself...she knew from her mother that the best thing to do would still be to encourage him to see the ghosts, to talk to them, to recognize that they were present in his life.

She just wasn't sure if she should tell him that she saw them too.

* * *

He didn't come.

She kept her promise and planned no party. She even scheduled a playdate for Aiden, just in case Rick wanted to have an actual conversation. She wanted to be in his life. She wanted to be a friend.

And he didn't come.

Melinda drifted to bed in a daze that night. Aiden had surprisingly gone to sleep quickly so she wasn't even able to distract herself by staying up with him. Jim was working late, and she was unaware that she was crying until he walked in and found her like that.

* * *

Dressed in his 'Sam' clothes, Jim undressed quickly, trying to turn back into himself. He still didn't entirely like this new body. He never would. It wasn't him.

But it gave him Melinda.

And that was when he heard a muffled sob from the bed, and he walked quickly over. "Mel? You're still awake?"

"I am," she said, after a moment.

There were tears streaming down her face, and he pressed a kiss to her throat, as it worked when she tried to speak. "Rick didn't come," she whispered, after a moment of Jim nuzzling her neck, tasting the skin there.

He paused, and then let himself down, and Melinda's arms came around him. The embrace was warm and Jim relished the feel of Melinda's body underneath his as he moved against her, just trying to make her forget.

She didn't like being left behind. She never would.

So he'd make her forget.

As the embrace went on, he moved his lips up to hers, and kissed her, long and lingering. She was almost fighting against him, she almost didn't want the comfort, but he'd seen her like this before and he wasn't going to let her slip away for however long it would take. He was bringing her back now.

She was dressed in pajamas, which he regretted. Since Aiden was born, she'd gone for more practical and less sexy.

And pajama tops didn't have flimsy straps, which he really regretted. It was a t-shirt and that would necessitate pulling it over her head.

Or leaving it on.

He didn't like that option either, but he moved his head to her breast anyway, finding the nipple through the shirt.

She bucked against him, truly shocked by the movement. So, he still had it in him to surprise her. Good.

"Jim, I...I don't want you to do this just to make me feel better," she began. "I mean...it's stupid to feel like this. Over him. Just..." Her words ended in a moan.

Jim's hands found the hem of the t-shirt. "Melinda?" He whispered, pressing his lips to her neck again.

"What?" She managed, as he sucked at her neck hard enough to leave a mark. Goddamn it, he was tired of Rick Payne hurting his wife.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully I'll get the rest of this scene up on AO3 tomorrow. It'll be MA :)


	47. Acceptance

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

A/N: I think Melinda is younger than J. Love. So this was hard to figure out. My brain was being weird, but finally I realized that a ten year high school reunion would be season 2-3. So no Aiden. For some reason I started out by calculating how long they were married before they had Aiden...that didn't help.

So yeah. Season 2-3 it is.

* * *

Her hands were shaking. That was the first clue.

She was trying to zip up the back of her dress, but her hands were shaking too badly. Jim was in the shower, and she sank down on the bed, trying to breathe. She wasn't seriously going to do this, was she? Go back to her old school? Confront all of the demons there? No. She couldn't be.

And yet she was. The invitation was still on her dresser, set there weeks ago when she'd first received it. She'd long ago sent away the RSVP card, saying that yes, Melinda Gordon would be attending. And yes, she'd have a plus one.

Her brain calmed down a little. At least she wasn't single, and she knew for a fact that the most popular girl in school was still struggling to find and keep a plus one.

So there was that. And then Lucas and Hadley had _divorced_ after she'd cheated on him. So she could stand strong in the face of the high school sweethearts who pretended that they could make it when everyone around them knew that they couldn't.

And Damon Halstead was dead. She felt thankful that his ghost had never appeared.

Maybe she was doing better, in the callous terms of the world. After all, she owned her own business. She was married. She didn't have kids, but it was at the twentieth reunion when people would care about the kids. And she had Jim.

But...

But...

She could still talk to the dead. And that was all anyone from her high school would ever see when they looked at her, she knew it. She felt it harshly, deep down in her chest, when she tried to inhale. They'd never see beyond the freak.

She heard the bathroom door opening, and sensed the steam leaving the room. Jim was walking in, and she could see in her mirror that he was dressed only in a towel, slung low on his hips.

"I couldn't get my dress to zip," she said, fighting hard to keep emotion from her voice, and he seemed to not notice the stress that shook it at the end.

"Why not?" He asked, walking swiftly over and she stood up. "I was there when you bought it and it fit. And that was only last week, Mel. Hang on. Do you have...no, that was two weeks ago."

She chuckled, hastily wiping away a stray tear. He knew her so well. He knew everything about her. It continually amazed her how well he paid attention to her.

"My hands were shaking," she admitted, feeling his hands land on her shoulders.

She inhaled, feeling his body warmth behind her. He was so close, and he stepped closer, wrapping careful arms around her. He rested his head next to hers, looking at them in the mirror, meeting her eyes there.

"Breathe," he whispered. "Just breathe. You'll survive this. I promise."

She reached a hand up to take one of his, pressing it to her mouth. "I love you," she managed to say.

He nodded, slipping back to find the zipper on her back. She felt his hands there, lingering on the bare skin, and then he carefully slid the zipper up. "There. All zipped."

"Thanks," she said, and sat at her dresser. She'd gotten her hair done earlier, in a beautiful topknot, with little tendrils by her face. Now she carefully picked out her jewelry, watching Jim change in the mirror and wishing that they had time; that she wasn't afraid of getting her hair or her dress messed up. Because what she really needed, in this moment, was for him to see her naked. For them to just roll around on their bed, or the floor, or anywhere, and for her to have him all to herself.

Her wandering mind stopped as he finished getting dressed, looking amazing in a tux. God. She loved him.

She picked up her clutch and slipped on a pair of glittery silver heels, making her way down the stairs. Jim was quiet as they left the house, perhaps sensing her tense mood.

He drove. She watched him, almost constantly, to the point where he turned and smiled at her. "Do I have something on my face?" He wondered.

"I just wish I didn't care if my dress and hair got messed up," she said.

His smile turned into a grin, and then he bit his lip when her hand landed on his thigh. "Mel...is that really the impression you want to give them?"

"Kind of," she confessed, inching her hand higher.

"Mel..." He glanced at her. "It's up to you."

"You're mean," she said, and pulled her hand back.

"Is there anyone in particular that you want me to know about?" Jim asked as they neared her home town. "A guy that dissed you? A girl who was a bitch?"

"No one in particular," she said, mouthing the rest of the sentence.

"What?" He questioned.

"None in particular because...they all did," she said.

* * *

The crowd seemed to part when they entered. Jim's hand was on the small of her back; possessive.

There were so many eyes. So many stares.

Melinda wanted to tug down her blue bandage dress, but forced her hands to stay at her sides, letting a smile come to her face.

Jim slid his arm all the way around her waist, tugging her into his side. "Melinda, why isn't anyone talking to us?"

"Are you sure you're in the right place?"

A blonde woman had walked over. "This is the Laker tenth year reunion," she explained. "And...good god. Melinda Gordon?"

It was like she broke the ice.

Heads that weren't already turned in their direction now swivelled dangerously quickly to stare, and a wave of whispers swept the crowd. "Melinda? Really?"

They hadn't recognized her. She didn't know whether or not to be happy. She remembered what high school had been like: baggy clothes. Hair in pigtails.

Maybe it was good that no one recognized her. She inhaled, leaning into Jim a little more, slipping her arm around him when she noticed the narrowing eyes of their companion.

"Zoe," she replied. "Yes, it's me. How are you? It's been so long."

"Who's this?" Zoe questioned. "I don't remember you having a brother."

"This is my husband, Jim," Melinda said, announcing the words.

"Your name is still Gordon, though," Zoe replied. "I helped with the invitations."

"I didn't take his name; he didn't need such a sexist pledge from me that I loved him," Melinda said. "My word was good enough."

She could sense Jim's smile.

Zoe's smile had become brittle though, and she glanced over Jim again, her gaze lingering on his eyes, jaw and shoulders. "This is a development I wasn't expecting, I must say. Little wallflower Melinda getting herself a man."

"Where's Dwayne?" Melinda asked brightly.

Zoe froze. "Well, he couldn't make it," she stammered. "You know, I see someone. Nice talking, Melinda. By the way..." Her eyes narrowed as she finally remembered that she had a trump card. They all did. "I don't suppose Damon is here. Everyone would just love to speak with him."

Melinda tossed her head in return. At least this was one part of her life that she'd truly gotten in control of. She was proud now of what she could do, at least in the face of Zoe's scorn. "I've always wondered what happened that night he took you to prom," she said. "I'll be sure to ask him."

Zoe's face turned pale and she left the two of them for good this time, not looking back.

Melinda wondered if she'd won that battle.

They continued to circle the floor, encountering everyone Melinda had wished to never see again. Some of them were just as shocked as Zoe had been to hear that Melinda was married. She caught some of the women taking double takes at Melinda's waist line, shock in how she was dressing and how fit she was. Had she been chubby in high school? Not really. She'd just dressed like she had been. Now, yes, she'd lost maybe five or ten pounds, but now she had the confidence to show off her body. It didn't really matter if she was chubby then or not; now she was dressing to optimize her body type.

And the men were definitely noticing too. Her legs were stared at. Whenever Jim moved his arm around her waist a bit lower; whenever he tightened his grip then she knew someone was staring at her ass. She wondered if this pleased her. If being attractive to these men, something she would almost have sold her soul for in dark moments during high school, was something that she still wanted.

No. It wasn't. She felt a mild disgust for everyone there, for the women who openly flirted with Jim, thinking that he'd be easily lurable from loony Melinda, to the men who, but for Jim's muscular arm around her, would have groped her ass.

She wasn't miserable. She was content, as she looked at these people. So. They were just human too. Just as fallible and silly and full of mistakes and disappointments as she was. Maybe even more.

She looked at Jim, knowing that, at least once, she'd made the right decision when she married him. And she knew she was beyond blessed to have found a partner to support her as he did, above and beyond what most men were even capable of.

They danced, and Melinda pretended she was at prom. Her tight, short blue dress was no slinky, floor length number from the 1990s, but she felt sexy and confident, using moves she'd learned during college; during a couple's dancing class she and Jim had taken during their engagement; during their marriage. She'd learned how to be sexy while dancing, and she knew that everyone was staring.

And she laughed. She was so happy. These people no longer had any control over her. She wondered why she'd ever even been nervous, considering how far removed she was from them. Who cares if they knew she professed to talk to the dead? They'd never take her up on it. And even if they did, she could say it was a desperate attempt from a teenager who only wanted love. Not even attention. Just love, that she didn't get at home except from her grandmother who she never saw as often as she needed to.

But now...she was loved. She had love. She had Jim, and Andrea, bless her soul, and Delia, Ned, Rick...and so many others. All the souls of the dead she'd helped because she hadn't listened to callous words that said _stop_ and _you're not worth it_ and _you're a liar and a slut and you aren't worth anything._

She hadn't listened. She'd survived.

As the evening ended, Jim pulled her into a dark corner. "I can't wait any longer," he said. "I want to mess your makeup and dress up. I want to topple your hair. I want to say once and for all to everyone out there that I love you and you're mine."

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his. She felt his hands on her waist, and he was picking her up, pressing her against the wall. Their movements were frenzied, and Melinda exulted at the pleasure she was feeling right now. She was suddenly glad that she'd, at least, waited until college to lose her virginity. None of the men who'd been boys at this high school were worth her. None of them.

Jim was edging one strap aside, his hands were digging into her hair, keeping his promise of toppling it. She moved her mouth to his neck, knowing that she'd be leaving a mark; intending to.

When they emerged, they were flushed and messy. His hand was tightly clasped in hers, and Melinda held her head high, triumphant, as they left the hotel conference room the reunion had been held in.

"I don't know what I was afraid of," Melinda said, as they rounded a corner.

"I do," he said. "Acceptance. And then you realized that, of all the people in the world, their acceptance means the least of anyone's in your life."

"That sounds about right," she said. "And yours...is paramount, except..."

"Except what?" He asked, tilting his head.

She laughed, the sound joyous and surprised. "My own. I accept myself, as I am, without any changes. And that's actually more important than you accepting me."

He smiled, and pulled her close. "I knew you'd get there."

* * *

A/N: I was thinking of holding off on publishing this until I'd finished my 'Rick' arc (which has two more chapters left) but I decided to go ahead.


	48. One Safe Place

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Tag to 3x4: No Safe Place. And it's just a bit different than Canon. I rewatched the scene where Shane's outside and Jim's at the Spa looking for his mom and it just wasn't long enough. And I changed all the dialogue too.

I humbly say that it was Halsey's _Colors_ that got me through this chapter. And the footage from the episode.

* * *

The house was quiet. Melinda walked through the door, hearing only one sound: the shower. Jim was back early. She inwardly cheered, feeling a bit of the tightness in her chest ease. He was home. She could work this through with him at her side.

She placed her umbrella in the closet, hanging her coat up carefully and slipped her heels off at the bottom of the stairs, making a note to put them away later.

Feet bare, she started up the stairs, her hand skating over the bannister. There were candles lit upstairs. She smiled at the sight. It had been a while since Jim had taken so much time and she was already loving it.

She remembered the night a few days ago, when he'd come downstairs seeking her (and a peanut butter sandwich) and remembered what exactly they'd ended up doing with that peanut butter sandwich.

 _"You better not be taking that peanut butter sandwich up to my bed."_

 _"Uh, no, I'm taking it up to_ my _bed."_

She loved Jim. Peanut butter had never tasted so good as it had that night.

Her red dress seemed to slide right off; she just shoved the straps off and there it was on the floor. The shower was still running steadily. Maybe she'd surprise him.

She pulled one of his blue paramedic dress shirts from the closet and buttoned it around herself, considering slipping her panties off and joining him in the shower instead, but she was a bit hungry. That could wait until later.

She headed for the bathroom, opening it and walking silently forward.

Funny. There was no shadow behind the curtain.

"Jim?" She questioned, pulling the curtain aside and stumbling backwards in almost the same moment.

He wasn't there.

Instead there was an orange rose.

She felt bile rise in her throat, and she reached out with a desperate hand, shutting the water off abruptly. She fell back against the counter, trying to get control of herself.

Shane had been inside her house.

Her heart was pounding almost painfully inside her chest.

What if he was still here?

Fuck. _Fuck._

She crept from the bathroom, as another clap of lightning lit up the house, followed by such a loud clap of thunder that Melinda flinched.

She went almost in a daze from room to room upstairs, searching for him. He...he wasn't violent. He wasn't a violent stalker...was he? She tried to remember the article she'd been quoting to Jim just a few nights ago.

Had it been Shane who'd shoved Colleen down the stairs? Or had she tripped?

Melinda felt her heartbeat quicken again, and she pressed a hand to her chest.

* * *

Jim rolled his head back, trying to get the stiffness out of his neck. This drive was too long, but what he could do? Suppose something _really_ wrong had happened and this was the last time he'd see his mother?

He shook his head and pulled into a parking space, jumping from the car into the pouring rain. By the time he'd reached the doors, he was soaked. If only he'd brought an umbrella, but this rainstorm had come on so suddenly.

The people in the hallway frowned at him when he entered, dripping water. He couldn't believe how wet he was from such a short jog. He'd never known a rainstorm like this.

There was no one at the front desk. He saw a nurse passing, flagged her, and she frowned at him.

"The receptionist will be back in five minutes; she had to answer a private phone call," she reprimanded him. "No, I can't help you."

He sighed, sagging against the counter for a moment.

Well, why not wait? It was his mother, after all. And there was no hurry.

He considered one of the waiting chairs, saw that they were actually upholstered and not plastic and shrugged, stuck his hands in his pockets, stood at the front desk and waited.

* * *

Melinda reached her bedroom, walking to the window when she saw it was still open. She hadn't found him upstairs and she was feeling almost calm enough to do the task of closing a window without freaking out.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky. Melinda looked into the yard and jumped like she'd been shot.

This was obviously the moment Shane had been waiting for. He looked up in delight when he saw her there.

"Melinda!" He called, barely audible over the pound of the rain and the claps of thunder that unceasingly broke the night's usual silence.

"Get the fuck away from here!" She screamed back, trying to be heard. Surely there was still a rational part to him. Please god, say there was.

"I thought you'd be happy. I left you a rose!" He called back. "Just like you gave me one when we first met."

"It wasn't from me," she shouted.

He shook his head, tutting, or at least that's what she guessed. "You look beautiful," he said, eyes narrowing. "I just wanted to make you happy."

"Jim's going to be home soon," she said. "Any minute."

He'd _met_ Jim. Surely that would mean something to him.

And Shane was laughing, exulting. "No, he won't. His mother took a turn for the worse at her little spa. Or at least that's what the doctor told him."

Melinda's heart banged against her ribcage, and she felt dizzy and light of breath. God, she couldn't believe the utter terror in her veins now. She felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

Her stress levels were astronomical and her brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out places to hide.

She slammed the bedroom door, sinking down against it because her legs were shaking too much for her to stand up.

Had she locked the front door? She thought and bit her lip, knowing that she hadn't. Remembering the candles, she knew that even if she had it wouldn't have mattered. Goddamn it, she and Jim needed to get a burglar alarm.

* * *

Jim checked his watch. It had to be a good fifteen minutes that he'd been standing at the counter, and there was still no one there.

Finally, a woman slipped into the area from the back room. "Sorry, the regular receptionist had to go home; family emergency," she explained. "I'm just filling in. What're you here for, dear?"

"I'm here to visit my mom, Faith Clancy," Jim said.

The woman, old enough to be a grandmother at least, smiled cautiously. "Let's see if I can find her on the computer," she said, laughing. "I'm still new at this. I don't understand these newfangled things and this isn't my normal job."

"Take your time, Nancy," he assured her, seeing a nametag hidden in her voluminous sweater, and she cautiously began to move the mouse.

* * *

Melinda looked at the clock, at how slowly the hands seemed to be moving. She wondered when exactly Jim had left, and contemplated how far the Medical Spa was from Grandview...thirty, forty minutes? That was with traffic. Maybe it was quicker.

She crawled to the bed and grabbed the home phone, but it emitted the harsh beep of inability and she threw it back on the bed, saw her cell phone on the bedside table and dived for it, cursing everything, God and nature, when it read 'no signal'.

She was going to die here.

She could die here.

She breathed in, a shuddering noise as her lungs fought to work properly as her heartbeat became ever more frenetic.

She could do this. She wasn't going to let Shane do this again.

Colleen appeared, as if summoned by the desperate situation.

"Colleen, I need you to remember if he pushed you," she said, going to her window and letting her head only barely peek through it, ducking back in what felt like relief when she saw that he was still there, because it meant that he wasn't inside. Not yet.

"I can't remember," she said, frantic.

Melinda wanted to scream, but instead went to the bedroom door, daring to open it. She inhaled again, remembered the sight of him in the yard, and walked down the front steps. She would hear him if he got into the house, she repeated, almost like a mantra. He couldn't be inside yet.

* * *

"Faye Clasen?" Nancy questioned, looking up from her computer after a few minutes of laborious typing.

"No, Faith Clancy," Jim repeated.

She frowned at her computer. "Um. What was she in for?"

"Just a minor thing, but Dr. Lidvack called to tell me that there were complications. I...she only checked in a few days ago," Jim said.

Nancy nodded, crinkling her nose in concentration as she stared at her screen. "Okay, Faith Clancy. Here she is. Um. Looks like she checked out already."

* * *

Melinda crept into the kitchen, Colleen close to her. "Please, help me," she whispered.

"How?" Colleen asked. "He killed me once. I want to help but I don't know _how_ , Melinda."

She was more frantic than Melinda, and Melinda wanted to curse her, but she knew _exactly_ how Colleen was feeling now.

She made it to the knife holder, grabbing their biggest chopping knife. This would make an impression on him.

* * *

"Checked out?" He asked, wanting to snatch the computer from her. "That's not possible. Are you sure?"

She straightened. "Listen, Mr., I may not be an expert at this job, but I can read the results on the screen. She checked in two days ago. Dr. _Lidvack_ checked her out this afternoon. There were no complications."

"What?" He asked, then his heart seemed to stop beating. "Shane."

"Sorry?" Nancy asked a little coldly, but the phone rang and it took her attention with her.

Jim stared down at his cell phone for a blank moment. No signal, it read. No way to get in touch with Melinda and ensure her safety.

Nancy was on the phone and Jim's heart skipped as he looked at her, before lunging across the counter to grab it from her.

"Excuse me!" She snapped, trying to jerk it back.

'It's an emergency," he managed to say, desperately dialing the home phone number. The out of order signal blasted in his ears and he dropped the phone, feeling his heart drop as well, spinning on his heel and sprinting from the Spa, getting as soaked in the rain as he had the first time around.

His hands shook as he tried and failed to shove his car keys in, and he couldn't believe what was happening. Melinda. Melinda.

Was Shane there? He had to be. There was no other explanation for 'Dr. Lidvack' calling to say that Faith's operation had had complications.

Damn it. Damn it. He should have called ahead. Just dialing his mother's cell phone number would have debunked that theory, but, of course, a woman recovering from a surgery with complications wouldn't have access to a cell phone. Damn it, Shane was good at this thing.

His heart beat sped up as his car tires skidded across the parking lot.

* * *

Melinda stood, her legs not wanting to straighten after she'd been crouching on the kitchen floor for a good five minutes, trying to get up courage to stand up and see if he was still there.

Colleen appeared again.

"Is he still there?" Melinda hissed.

"I don't know," Colleen said, wringing her hands. "I didn't see him."

Melinda took the chance to look out the window. There was no one in the yard. She gulped in a mouthful of air, trying to keep herself breathing. He was gone from the backyard. Did that mean he'd be in the front?

She was easing away from the window when his face appeared, lunging up at it. "Melinda!" He shrieked.

She screamed, almost dropping the knife, but he was there, just on the other side of the wall, and she lunged for the door, holding it closed as he lunged for it and grabbed the handle from the other side, trying to yank it open.

"Get the fuck away from me," she screamed, holding the knife out. "I mean it!"

"Melinda, you can't hide from me forever," he said.

He gave one great burst of energy and ripped the door from her grasp, swinging it open, and he stepped inside.

Melinda couldn't breathe. She swung the knife at him and missed; he grabbed her arm and it fell to the floor.

He had her arm. She stared at the sight, horror chilling her veins. No, this couldn't be happening. He was in the house with her. No.

She tried to pull back but he swung her in near to him. His coat was wet.

"Melinda, you don't know how much I want this moment," he said, soaking the blue paramedic shirt she wore. It chilled her and she felt her nipples pebble. His gaze, naturally, fell there, and he chuckled. "I knew you were attracted to me, husband or no husband. I knew it from the moment we met."

"No," she said, twisting in his arms to knee him in the groin.

He groaned but didn't lessen his grip on her arm. "I don't think so," he panted, and she twisted again, until he was holding her arm in a vise, staring at her ominously. "Don't try anything again," he warned.

She lifted her other arm, trying to punch him in the head.

Colleen appeared next to her, and a vase clattered on Shane's head in the next second.

He let go of her, stumbling back, and Melinda, shooting a thank you to Colleen, made for the front door. Surely she'd be able to make it next door.

"Melinda!" Shane screamed, ran forward and tackled her to the ground.

He was going to completely overcome her.

* * *

Jim broke every single speed limit sign he passed, and he still wasn't getting home anywhere near as fast as he'd have liked.

He was going to kill Shane. Choke every bit of life from his veins. He couldn't believe he'd tried to help the bastard.

His tires skidded, and he almost lost control of the car, but he was only a block away from home.

His house was dark, when it came into view. Melinda's car was in the driveway.

He pulled in behind her, leaving the car running and barely even taking time to put it into park before lunging from the interior, out into the pounding rain. He felt sick. Suppose it was too late?

Suppose Melinda...

He couldn't afford to think like that.

The front door was open and he kicked the screen door to get in faster, and there was Shane, tackling Melinda.

Jim wasn't even acting consciously, not really. He was flying through the air, throwing Shane from off of Melinda. He heard the man shout as his head collided with the wall, but he couldn't concentrate on him.

Melinda was there, flat on the ground, shaking. "Melinda!" He called, and she raised her head.

"Jim?" The look in her eyes broke his heart. "It's Shane, he's here..."

He stood up again, facing Shane, but the man had struggled to his feet. Jim lunged after him but he was already disappearing through the open back door.

The rain pounded against Jim's skin as he followed Shane into the backyard, ready to strangle the man with his bare hands, but Shane had vaulted the fence and Jim could hear a car start and tires skidding away.

He cursed Shane before running back inside, almost slipping in the mud. When he got inside, Melinda had managed to sit up, and she only reached for him when he came running back in.

His hands went straight to her, and he pulled her into his arms, lifting her right off of the floor, holding her tighter than he ever had before in his life.

* * *

Jim's arms were secure. Secure and tight and strong and safe. Melinda buried her face in his soaking coat, feeling the tears overwhelm her.

She was crying, sobbing, really, and her arms wound around his neck, and the heat of his skin and the beat of his heart had never before been so precious.

* * *

She was shaking. She was dressed only in his blue paramedic shirt and panties. He hated Shane all the more for the intimate view he'd gotten of Melinda.

"I need to call the police," he managed to say, after a long moment of just holding her, cherishing her, praising all powers that existed that he'd gotten this moment to share with her again. He lowered her to the ground, but she wasn't letting go of his neck, and he had to bend way down.

"Mel, it's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. Shane's gone."

"He cut the phone lines," she managed to say, and he saw the terror in her face as she said it, as if she was remembering the moment that she'd realized it and his heart constricted along with hers.

He managed to unwind her arms from his neck, holding her tiny hands tight in his, bringing them up to his mouth, laying desperate kisses on them. "We're fine," he managed. "I'm just going to run next door to the neighbors to call the police, okay?"

She nodded, and, dropping her hands, he cradled her face in his hands, bringing her lips in to meet his. He'd never kissed her like this before, pouring all passion and relief and panic into it, every feeling that he'd felt while trying to get to her.

She was clinging to him again, not wanting to let go.

"I'll be back," he promised, barely pulling away from her, from the heat and wonder of her. From the beat of her heart and the blink of her eyes, and the movement in every single one of her uninjured limbs.

* * *

A/N: On AO3, it's 1000 words longer.


	49. If At First

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Another tag for No Safe Place. (3x4)

* * *

"I'll be there in five minutes," Jim promised, listening carefully to see if the tone of his wife's voice changed.

She didn't answer for a long moment. "Sorry, I had to shoo someone away from the door," she said. "Some people can't fathom that the shop is closed when they can see me through the door and windows."

"Ah," he agreed, walking through the fire station. He waved goodbye to his partners and headed outside to his truck. The weather had remained tumultuous since Melinda's encounter with Shane; Grandview had been hit with dozens of thunderstorms, rainshowers and even an almost tornado. Today it was hot and sultry; Jim tugged at the collar of his blue paramedic shirt and was glad he'd ditched the jacket hours earlier.

"See you soon," Melinda whispered and the phone in his hand went dead.

Jim slipped it into his pants pocket and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off. His white undershirt was almost soaked with sweat from just the short walk outside and he ended up reaching into his duffel bag, in the back seat of his pickup, and grabbing a new t-shirt, pulling the old over his head and the new on in one rapid motion.

He jumped into the truck and started it, the air conditioning blasting on at the same moment. Oh, god, that felt good. Oh, finally.

He drove at a quick pace across the square to Same As It Never Was. He had been walking Melinda home but due to time constraints he wanted his pickup at home tomorrow morning. He had an early (but short) shift; he was covering a partial shift for Hamish the next day from 3 a.m. to 7 a.m.

The shop looked all closed up when Jim got there and he headed around to the back, parking the truck there and hopping out.

He remembered the terrible night last week when he'd been tearing from his truck in the pouring rain...wondering if he'd make it in time...Jim blamed himself. Melinda didn't. Whenever he even brought up the subject she scolded him, saying that of course he'd go to Faith's side in that moment and that was why she loved him and he should stop beating himself up about it.

But she didn't know how long he'd just been waiting at the desk for someone to return. If he'd only pressed the issue with that first nurse, saying it was an emergency, he could have saved a good fifteen minutes.

He reached the back door to the shop and knocked; it almost seemed like another life in which Melinda had kept it unlocked; in reality, of course, it was just last week.

Fuck. Jim didn't like change.

Melinda opened it in the next moment, and Jim almost inhaled the very sight of his wife; at least it felt like it gave him more oxygen.

She looked tired and she was dressed simply, in a cami sundress that hit above her knees. "Hey," he whispered, and pulled her to his side, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Good day?"

"Not really," she admitted, leaning into the embrace. "I just got tired. Since you weren't there last night, I didn't sleep very well."

Jim felt a pang at the thought. "I should have pressed the issue when Jody told me I couldn't switch shifts; I'm sorry," he said. "And shit, I'm doing it to you again."

"Hamish's wife has been waiting for him to have a full night at home, don't worry about me," she said. "I'll make some tea. Get caught up on my business records. It's only four hours. I'll get in some sleep before then."

She pulled away from him, sliding her hand into his and starting for the truck. "It's so hot," she reflected. "And the A/C went out here about an hour ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, startled.

"You were working," she said, smiling. "I sent Delia home and closed up shop early. I was wilting in the back but then I went down to the basement and it was cool enough down there. I sorted some new inventory that I was planning on coming in on Saturday to do, so it wasn't a total waste." She leaned against the pickup door, gazing up at him.

He leaned down and captured her lips in his, not really intending to kiss her but his body seemed to be driving the motion, not his brain. Her hands came up and grabbed his collar, pulling him closer, and for a blessed moment there was only the sound of Melinda's sighs and moans, a very welcome soundtrack on this sultry evening.

He pulled away, more than a little breathless. Melinda looked down, ducking her head.

He opened the door for her, gave her a gentlemanly boost up into the tall cab and then he was staring at her ass and it wasn't so gentlemanly anymore. He found himself climbing in after her, and she was only startled for a moment before hitting her seat controls and it fell back.

They kept it lazy, slow. Jim took his time, trying to give Melinda every amount of pleasure that he could. He couldn't take his eyes off of her face; he was almost afraid to, he just had to keep checking to make sure that she was still in the moment, still enjoying herself, until Melinda forced his head down, perhaps catching on to what he was doing.

They lay in a quiet heap, Jim's arms tight around her. Something was digging into his back and he just didn't care.

"I still blame myself," Jim whispered, the words raw. "I should have been there in time."

"You were," she vowed, but the words were weak.

"I should have been there earlier," he said.

She moved into him, closer. Her body was slick with sweat.

"Nothing happened, not really," she said. "You did get there in time, Jim. I've never been so glad to see you."

And then, for the first time since the night, Melinda cried. After a moment, Jim did too, feeling his throat swell with emotion.

"I'll be there next time," he whispered fiercely, pulling her even closer. "I promise."


	50. The Day After Forever

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: I've hit the chapter fifty mark and it's crazy. It hasn't even been a year.

I now formally rededicate this to GhostWhispererFangirl. I seriously wouldn't have written over half of this if not for her inspiring me. She has literally become one of my very best friends.

Love you, Mariah.

* * *

Melinda had no idea what to make of the cryptic email. "Do you want to meet for lunch?"

She read it out loud.

"I don't know what you're worrying about," Andrea said, taking a bite of sandwich. "Seriously. Lunch. With Jim. Your boyfriend."

"But he never emails me," Melinda sighed, clicking on the email to see when it had been sent. "And he sent this late last night. He could have asked me last night if I wanted to meet."

Andrea shrugged. "So he forgot and actually wanted to sleep last night instead of staying up on the phone with you."

"We do not do that," Melinda protested.

"Melinda, I came home at two a.m. last month and you were still on the phone with him!" Andrea said. "Don't deny it. You _can't_ deny it."

"Yeah, but he'd only called at one a.m.," Melinda protested. "So it was only an hour."

"Why did you pick up for _anyone_ at one a.m.?" Andrea asked, exasperated.

"It was Jim, not anyone," Melinda said a bit stubbornly, sulking a bit that Andrea wasn't taking her seriously. "It's just...this is hard to say...whenever I get close to a guy...really close. Whenever I tell him my...biggest secret..."

"Which is what, that you aren't as perfect as you seem? Well, you are," Andrea joked.

Melinda smiled uncomfortably. "I had a boyfriend in college that I was really close to. I told him something about myself and he just went cold. Gone. Bailed out. It's happened with everyone I told."

"What is this thing?" Andrea asked, raising her eyebrows.

Melinda looked down at her computer. "I...I love you, Andrea, but I don't know if I can tell you yet. It's not something I like to share."

Andrea put her sandwich down, dead serious. "Okay." She said, nodding.

"Okay?" Melinda asked.

"If you don't want to tell me, don't force yourself," Andrea said. "What kind of friend would I be? I might be curious but in my experience those kinds of secrets are more painful than exciting." Her eyes softened. "You've lost friends because of it too, huh?"

"Yeah," Melinda said, throat getting tight. "Thank you, Andrea."

"You won't lose me no matter what, I'm stuck to you like glue," Andrea vowed.

"Anyway," Melinda said, wiping her eyes. "I told Jim a few months ago. And ever since then I've just been waiting for the shoe to drop. Because I just know that...it can't last." She heard her voice break, knowing that she was baring all in front of Andrea. Almost all.

"Oh, Mel, honey, Jim loves you," Andrea replied, voice gentle. "He would never break up with you, no matter what skeleton you have in your closet."

"It doesn't stay in the closet though, and Jim has experienced that," Melinda said, fighting hard against sobs. "It intrudes itself into every freaking corner of my life and ruins everything, and yet I wouldn't change it about myself."

Andrea was frowning, puzzling over what on earth it could be, but she never even started to ask. "Jim is so head over heels for you it would never even occur to him to bail, no matter what it is. I'm serious. I've never seen a guy so in love."

"But in love isn't the same thing as...loving," Melinda said. "Yeah, I think Kevin might have been in love with me, but that evaporated so quickly. Kevin didn't love me."

"Jim isn't just in love," Andrea said. "And I think you know it. I think you're just scared of what else he might want to talk about. Or scared that it really will just be a lunch invite. Maybe you're so afraid of getting hurt that you're inventing things. Speaking of, it's like 12 now. Did you email him back to set a time?"

"Yeah, 12:30 at the library," Melinda said. She had another lump in her throat; she hadn't realized how well Andrea knew her, or how much her friend cared.

* * *

Her hips were swinging, and so was her hair. Melinda looked festive, Jim decided, spying her walking down the sidewalk towards him. She was wearing a strapless sundress; god, she looked amazing. It was dark blue, and had patterns in orange all over it; nipped at the waist and short.

It was showing all of her off, from her amazing cleavage to her toned legs.

She was such a beautiful woman. He still almost couldn't believe that she loved him.

And that beneath that beauty was depth. Amazing depth. He could not believe all that Melinda Gordon held, from the pain in her past, to the gift she had.

Melinda Gordon could talk to the dead. And it had opened up a whole new world for Jim when she told him; when he decided to believe her.

He smiled softly, thinking that he hadn't quite chosen as his heart had chosen for him, believing her almost before she said the words; made it official. Melinda Gordon could talk to the dead. She could tell him if his father was there or not, lingering at Jim's side.

She gave so much peace to mourning families. He'd been along, accidentally, and it floored him, the way she talked to the families. How she would go into the most painful situation, knowing that she didn't really have a right to be there, uncomfortable...but doing it anyway. Out of love. Always out of love.

That was the most beautiful thing about Melinda Gordon. Her heart.

He felt a lump rise in his throat, and he stepped forward to meet her, going down the library steps.

She saw him, smiled, and he wondered if he saw a touch of worry in her eyes.

He was almost dancing down the steps, and then she was in his arms. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, from the scent of her shampoo to the heat of her neck as he buried his face in the crook of it; to her bare, sunwarmed back over her sundress.

He came up and placed his lips over hers, relishing, always relishing, that _he_ got to do this. That he was alive to do it. That Melinda loved him and welcomed his touch.

That she returned it in kind, or doubled.

Her arms were around him, he felt her hands moving on his back, and she was pressing against him, as if wanting his embrace to swallow her whole.

She pulled away, after a breathless moment. "Wow, that's a hello that I could get used to," she said.

"Me, too," Jim whispered, darting to give her another quick kiss. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"No," she teased. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"How much?" He dared.

"More than my heart can bear sometimes," she whispered, suddenly dead serious.

"I think my answer is, more than my heart can bear all the time," he returned, and their breath began to intermingle again until they were but centimeters apart. He studied her face for a moment, drinking her all in, before lowering his mouth again. Her tongue came to meet his immediately, tangling with it. He moaned, pulling her closer, and there was a loud clearing of the throat.

"It's not appropriate to do that here," a straight laced librarian told them. "You're too close to the entrance."

Melinda's face was beet red, but Jim took her hand in solidarity. "We'll move," he said graciously. "I'm sorry if we were making anyone uncomfortable. We just got very good news."

The librarian smiled stiffly and walked back inside.

Jim led Melinda down the steps, clutching her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

"What good news?" She asked, keeping pace with him.

"That was a lie," he admitted. "I just wanted her to think that we weren't just horny teenagers."

"You're way too hot to be a teenager," she whispered.

He laughed, briefly bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss, a movement that also brought her closer to him. "So are you. Though god, Melinda, I wish I'd known you then."

"I wish I'd known you too," she whispered. "It would have made everything better."

He glanced down at the woman beside him again, again wondering, as he always wondered, how much pain her heart had been made to bear over the years.

He couldn't wait any longer. There was a grove of trees next to the steps of the library, a tiny oasis in New York City.

He pulled her over to the trees.

"Jim, I thought we were getting lunch," she said, not really protesting.

"I have something to do first," he said. "Something really important."

"What, some more making out?" She asked, going along with him, their hands swinging.

Jim felt a lump rise in his throat as he looked at her again. He was terrified. He was terrified that the words wouldn't come, that his carefully chosen speech would be forgotten.

He closed his eyes, pulled his hand from hers, stuck it inside his pocket.

He pivoted, dropping to one knee before Melinda could react.

"Before you say anything, yes, I've thought this through. Melinda, I couldn't love you more if I tried. I never thought that I would or even could love anyone as much as I love you, but every time I just look at you, it almost makes my heart hurt from the overflow. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I mean inside and out. I...I've seen you with families, when you're crossing a ghost over. When it hurts just to be around them their grief is so profound. And you go in there anyway. That's how big your heart is. Melinda, I've never seen anything like that, known anyone like you. You have such a huge, beautiful heart. And I can't imagine not waking up in a year, or five, or ten, and you not being there. It makes me physically ache to think that someday I might lose you, because of clumsiness, or waiting around too long...I need you in my life, Melinda Gordon. Will you...marry me? Be my partner? My other half, my love..." He could barely speak, the lump in his throat just seemed to keep growing.

Melinda was just staring at him, obviously completed floored by the question, completely unprepared, just shocked.

He was afraid that she'd ask him to wait. He was afraid that she was going to say no.

And then she was stumbling, coming to sit on his outward knee, throwing her arms around his neck, and crying; sobbing.

She was barely breathing when she pulled back, the sobs were so body shaking. "I love you," she gasped. "And yes, and I want to make as beautiful a speech as you gave me." She pressed her lips together, trying to stop the tears. "You changed my life, Jim. You're still changing it, rocking it, you turn it on its axis. You _love_ me, Jim. All of me. Everything. Every little piece of this pawnshop body and soul of mine. I was broken, Jim. Just scared. And you came along. And everything changed."

She began to kiss him, pressing kiss after kiss to his face, and he could feel the tears now on his cheeks as she pressed her face to his.

"I'm yours forever, Jim," she said. "Forever."

"Forever?" He wondered. "What about the day after forever?"

"Forever and a day then," she promised.

Their hands were shaking when he slid the ring onto her finger. She slid off of his knee down into the grass, staring at her hand in awe. It was a gold band, delicate, with a glittering, flat diamond set in the middle, offset by tiny pearls.

Jim was coming down, following her. He pressed her onto her back, one hand on either side of her head, and he just looked at her from above.

"I love you," he said, voice raw.

She laughed, one of pure joy, a sound that made his heart sing. And then, grabbing hold of his shoulders, she pulled him down to her.

* * *

A/N: A tiny tag to Ghost Bride where Jim says that he married Melinda for her body. I just had to put that in there, lol. I mean, hell, _I'd_ marry Jennifer Love Hewitt for her body.


	51. One Giant Leap for Sam

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: This is maybe 500 words longer on ao3, where it's a separate story.

* * *

It didn't make sense. Sam fully admitted that. If Melinda was a crazy woman, if she truly believed this...her...delusion, how could he still be so attracted to her? How could he still ache to see her, to touch her, to know her body as he had that night...that strange, beautiful night?

He scrubbed at his face, angry and sad and wistful. Why couldn't she be normal? Why couldn't their love story be simple and easy? Why had he said to goodbye to Jordan for this woman?

A woman who was insane, possibly. Mentally ill, almost definitely true. Beautiful...true. The woman who seemed to control his gravity...

He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering.

He looked at his phone. Ten minutes since he'd called her.

He knew he wasn't getting a call back.

* * *

Flopped on his bed, too tired to sleep, Sam tried to consider all of the possibilities. If Melinda was mentally ill, there were meds she could take...right? If he could convince her to take them, to get tested...

He shook his head. Some blurry part of his mind seemed to be telling him that those would unalterably change her personality, make her lessMelinda and that wasn't something he wanted at all.

He realized that Melinda and strangeness had to go hand in hand. Part of Melinda was her oddities, her passion to help people through the grieving process...in ways that he didn't understand but surely, it was good for the people she helped.

Could he live with a Melinda who wasn't, well, Melinda?

He shook his head, knowing that he was being an idiot. There was no Melinda without her passions, her intrigues.

So, that settled, what were his other options now that Melinda had to be crazy or she wasn't...Melinda?

They'd be to give in to the craziness. To embrace it. To say that he was who she said he was...wished he was...

But he didn't want to be.

His throat seemed to hurt and he wondered if he was imagining it.

The reason he didn't want to be...Jim...was because he wanted Melinda to love him. He had fallen head over heels for this woman and it had cut him unbelievably, once everything had processed, to realize that he wasn't what she wanted at all. That he wasn't anything near to what she wanted. That he was supposed to be her husband, that by the simple fact that he was himself she despised him.

He rolled onto his side, feeling a vague pain settle into his chest. This was literally hurting him.

He wasn't sure he could live with being Jim.

Hell, until recently he wasn't sure he could live with being Sam.

* * *

Ned had finally left.

Sam was angry; with Ned, with Melinda, with himself...with Jim. What the fuck kind of man had he been that everyone wanted him back? Wanted him more than they wanted Sam? That Sam could just be cast aside like this in these peoples' minds...

It didn't make any sense. He felt angry tears in his eyes and he hated himself for it.

The word, Carter, stood out on his day planner page out of the corner of his eye.

He tore the page out and ripped it to pieces.

It didn't give him any satisfaction.

He wanted to get dead drunk tonight, but he wouldn't let himself. There was something, that damn stupid little voice, that told him how deleterious an alcohol binge would be for his metabolism...how you never wanted to beyond a bottle of beer or a glass of wine in one night.

He hated that voice. He hated that voice because it never seemed to really be his.

So that left one possibility. Jim. Jim was a paramedic. He wanted to be a med student. He was going to be a doctor. So of course he'd know about things like this.

And things like saving that guy. And all those strange minutia of details that made no sense for him to remember.

He was so angry with himself for even contemplating this. He was Sam. Sam Lucas. He was a perfectly decent human being. There was no reason for him to give in to the delusion, to force himself to be someone...something else.

And yet.

He looked dimly at the ripped page.

Carter.

* * *

She doesn't know anything about it. She doesn't know about the bike. She couldn't have told me about Carter.

Sam walked down the street, in a complete fog, not noticing the people he was passing.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. He...had to be...Jim Clancy. No. No 'had to's. No. He could be Jim Clancy. And goddamnit, he wanted to be. He wanted to be the man that Melinda loved and Eli envied and Ned seemed to damn near worship.

But at the same time, he didn't want to lose himself. He'd only just gotten himself back.

But had he really? Had he regained his being? No. Then he should be able to remember things about Jordan, beyond her shampoo.

He walked into a lightpost, and lurched backwards, head stinging.

"Are you okay?" A woman asked, startled.

"I'm fine," he managed, and hurried away. He was running, suddenly. He knew he had to get there in a hurry.

But where was there? What was he heading towards?

The answer came to him at a traffic light.

He picked up his cell phone, dialing Melinda. He wanted to talk to her. To give her one more chance to talk him into this, to talk him into being Jim.

Because he wanted to be. For her. For himself.

For the utter grandeur and insanity that was love.

* * *

Eli was ready to risk his life for Melinda. To dive under that water and possibly to never come back. To possibly not even find Melinda. Melinda might not even be there.

Why did Melinda have to turn everyone around her insane?

His heart was beating. He couldn't pay attention to his brain, because right now it was screaming at his heart to shut the fuck up, but he didn't want it to. He wanted to follow his heart. He had to do this.

He didn't care if he was Jim. He didn't care if he was Sam.

Wasn't the part that mattered Melinda? That she could be down there. That she could be about to die. That he could lose her. That he didn't want to lose her. More than anything, he did not want to lose her.

The water hit him hard. He used swimming techniques he didn't know he knew.

The rooms were small, cramped. There wasn't enough air.

He hit his head.

Melinda was there, screaming, crying. He was dying. He was in pain.

He was swimming through the water, trying to figure this out.

He had to get to her.

And then memories flooded his brain. As oxygen left, as his brain stopped being able to function, his heart took over. He remembered. Melinda was there. He was there. It was him. His arms were around hers. He was kissing her. They were dancing. It was their wedding.

She was his.

Sam Lucas had jumped into the water. It was Jim who emerged, coughing and desperate, to a Melinda who no longer knew him.

* * *

Melinda was crying.

There was a look on her face that he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. One of shock, and desperation, and relief. Pure, utter relief. He'd never seen her like this. Never.

He pulled her into his arms, wondering why she'd called him Sam in the first place. Wondering what this all meant. Wondering why he couldn't remember what he was doing here. Wondering why she was crying, just at him telling her to call him Jim.

Of course she should call him Jim. Why would she ever call him anything else?

And then nothing mattered. Melinda was in arms, clinging, beautiful. She was kissing him all over his face, and they were trapped underground, and it was all Melinda could to hold onto him, keep kissing him.

He finally pulled back. "Don't we have to get out of here?"

* * *

Everything was explained. It didn't make sense. But whenever did things make sense around Melinda? When had it ever mattered?

She was melting in his arms, holding so tight that he couldn't breathe. Her hair was messy, and she was wearing an open black dress shirt. His hands were reaching for the buttons.

He knew that he should be more worried about what he'd done while in Sam's body so far. About why Melinda had been so shocked to see him. Why she'd looked so vulnerable and almost scared of him before he'd said call me Jim.

And then it didn't matter. That could all be talked about another day.

The buttons were all undone. He slipped the shirt off of her shoulders, hearing it hit the floor with an almost inaudible whumph.

She wasn't letting go of him. Her lips were pressed against his and she wouldn't let them part for the world.

He ached, wondering what he'd done to her during this time. He ached, wondering how he could make it up to her.

There were tears running down her face again, onto his cheeks, onto his chest as she finally pulled away and buried her face in his neck.

"Mel..." He whispered.

"Jim," she replied, the word so full of meaning in how she said it. It blew his mind.

He picked her up, swinging her into his arms. He didn't like this new body. As Jim he'd have never faltered, but with this guy, there was a moment of danger.

And then he was carrying her up the stairs, and she was clinging to him like she'd never let go again.

* * *

A/N: ALSO

And this one's important.

I do usually try to edit my ao3 versions and put them on here as chapters of CLoFT, but sometimes, it means deleting more than half the story. So sometimes it doesn't happen. I really do encourage jumping over to ao3 and seeing what other goodies I have there because not all make the jump to ff net.


	52. Mistletoe, Day 12

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day Twelve: Mistletoe

A/N: Dear Mariah, you suck but I do still love you.

And yeah, back to the Winter challenge.

* * *

Melinda stared up at the sprig of mistletoe, her eyes wide.

"I think it's supposed to be a surprise," Andrea chuckled. "So don't spoil it for everyone at this party. Besides, someone's going to come up to you eventually, someone who's not me, and then you'll be in trouble."

"Eek," Melinda said, jumping about a foot away. "Thing is, Jim's not even coming."

"He isn't?" Andrea wondered.

"He had to work," Melinda sighed. "It's insane. We do so well, spend so much time together...I get rid of ghosts and it just all works out smoothly and then we have weeks like this one, where we're like two ships passing in the night."

She pouted, watching the swinging dancers around them; all couples.

"I've barely seen him," she sighed.

"You've still got the perfect marriage and most of us don't even have a boyfriend," Andrea said. "Hell, some women in your position would be glad to have a week like that."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," Melinda said.

"I'm going to stop trying then," Andrea said, fishing the olive out of her martini and popping it into her mouth. "Because I see a very good looking guy across the dance floor."

Melinda just sighed, and leaned against the wall, wondering why she'd even bothered going here when Jim had cancelled on her.

"Dance with me," someone shouted, and she turned to see one of the business owners along main street in Grandview standing there. After all, it was a town commerce holiday party.

"Sure," she said, knowing that Andrew knew perfectly well that she was married and happily so, and would never attempt anything.

He swung her out onto the floor; it was a fifties song, and everyone was bouncing to the beat.

She felt his eyes on her breasts and reconsidered the hope that he wouldn't try anything. He was looking at them like they were edible.

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Maybe with Jim they were. But Andrew wasn't Jim.

Definitely not Jim.

He spun her in a circle, and she giggled in spite of herself. This was fun! Though she loved grooving with Jim, she had to admit that their dancing repertoire was rather limited, and Andrew seemed to be quite a skilled dancer, even pulling her in for a dip.

"You're the prettiest woman here," he told her, and she felt the firm press of his hands against her back.

"Thanks," she told him over the music, accidentally on purpose flashing her wedding ring in his face.

He just smiled wider, pulled her closer. "Melinda, I've seen the way you look at me," he suddenly whispered.

She felt the sudden, urgent press of his erection against her stomach, and tried to pull away.

"Married, Andrew," she said, annoyance in her voice, smelling the alcohol for the first time.

"It's almost Christmas," he whispered, holding her tighter. "It's the season for affairs. You aren't happy with him. I can tell. I was at your wedding, Melinda. You kept looking out the window and walking away from Jim."

 _Yeah, cause his dead brother was there and I love Jim so I wanted to be sure I got in a good conversation with Dan._

"Not even answering that, Andrew," she said. "Now let me go before I scream."

"You won't," he said. "It'll ruin the party."

"You want to risk what I will and will not do?" She said.

He let her go with a huff. "Bitch," he said.

"Yeah, but not yours, thank God," she hissed back. "I'm reporting you."

"For what?" He snapped. "I didn't do anything. There's nothing I can be charged with."

With that, he slunk off across the dance floor.

She pitied his next victim, already formulating the email to go to all members of the chamber of commerce in Grandview. Just because it was a party...just because he was a little bit drunk...that didn't make it better. That made it worse.

Angry and generally disappointed in mankind now, she slipped off to the bathroom for a moment to refresh her makeup, looking at herself in the mirror.

Why was she even still here?

Grabbing her purse tight, she left the bathroom, trying to weave through the floor and finding that the dancing had grown wilder...or drunker.

It was a good time to leave, she reflected.

Andrea was tugging her new man after her and Melinda grinned, shaking her head. Andrea had the best luck. She could always find the one man at the party who wasn't utter scum.

She was passing through the doorway when an arm grabbed her, pulled her flush against them and kissed her.

"Fuck, Andrew," she said, the moment she was able to pull away.

"You were under the mistletoe," he slurred. "I had an excuse."

She reared back and punched him, and the hit propelled the already impaired man straight to the ground.

She shook her hand out, staring down at him.

"Having trouble here?"

It was Tom, a deputy over at the Grandview Police Station.

"He got a little too eager," she said.

"A night in jail should straighten him out," Tom said. "Want to press charges?"

"I'll let you know," she said. "Thank you."

"Hey, it's assholes like him that spoil the party for the rest of us," he said, hauling the man to his feet. "Come on, Andrew."

"Fuck you," the man slurred as he was carted off.

Melinda watched them go, feeling even more tired now. She was so sick of this. Being treated like property. Being grabbed at and subjected to all kinds of crap because...what...she had a pretty face. Genetics.

She moved out of the doorway, just arms encircled her waist from behind, and she froze.

"Did you not just see what happened to Andrew Feltway when he tried the same thing?" She snapped, and then looked up at her captor.

Oh.

Lips landed on hers and she returned the embrace, desperately twisting in Jim's arms.

"What happened to Andrew?" He whispered, pulling away a little, pressing a feather soft kiss to her temple.

"He got punched in the face," she told him.

"What did he do?" He asked, his arms traveling up her back in a soothing motion.

"Kissed me under the mistletoe," she admitted.

He was still in his paramedic's uniform.

His gaze remained steady, even. "I'm glad I stopped by, then," he said. "Where's he now?"

"Tom said he'd spend the night in jail," Melinda told him, leaning on his shoulder.

"That's not all he'll get," Jim murmured, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I just stopped in to say hi. I told Bobby I'd be back out in five, so..." He pressed another kiss to her head, then tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you," he said. "Want a ride home? We can use the siren."

* * *

A/N: And I do love you but not enough to extend this tonight.

I'll put it up on ao3 soon though, with two bonus endings. You can guess them.


	53. Snowmen (Day 13)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day 13: Snowmen

* * *

Aiden couldn't stop just running to the windows, jumping up and down in excitement. Even his little two year old heart knew that snow was new, and snow was fun, and he wanted to go outside and investigate.

"Mom, mom, mom," he insisted, just repeating the word. "Out."

"Not right now," she replied, sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of bills.

He ran back to her side, tiny legs carrying him ably across the floor. She could not believe how big he was getting. It was incredible.

"Mommy," he pleaded, huge eyes staring up at her, begging. "Out!"

"Soon," she told him.

"Now?" He asked.

"I have to finish this," she said.

Big beautiful eyes filled with crocodile tears. Aiden was such a master manipulator.

"Mommy," he said, lower lip starting to tremble. "Out?"

She couldn't believe how much her heart melted, even though she knew that he was partially faking it.

"Okay," she said, pushing her chair back.

All sign of tears evaporated as Aiden squealed for joy, jumping up and down and clapping his hands together.

Getting him into winter clothing was a process. She checked his diaper first, then started to pull another sweater on top of his blue shirt.

He wiggled, impatient.

"We have to get our warm clothes on first, Aiden, or we can't go out," she told him.

"Okay," he said.

She helped him into his brand new coat and snow pants that Jim had seen last week on sale and bought without a second thought.

She pulled a hat over his little head, and gloves onto his wiggling hands, trying to clap together for joy. Boots were the last things she put on him, marveling at how small his feet are, yet how much bigger compared to last year or the year before.

"You sit here," she said. "Stand by the door while I get dressed too, okay?"

He nodded, staring out at the white world.

She hurried to dress, pulling on a tank top instead of a bra, and two sweaters over it. She didn't have snowpants so she pulled on two pairs of sweats instead, and prayed that they'd be enough and she wouldn't be completely soaked at the end of this adventure. Gloves and a hat completed the look before she ran downstairs, discovered Aiden standing where she left him.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand and opening the door.

He tugged away from her after they got off the porch, running forward into the heaps of snow, laughing all the while, his body almost exploding in spasms of chuckles and giggles as he rolled about.

"You like snow, don't you?" She said, laughing as she watched him.

"Snow!" He chortled, making fists of it and letting it spray over him. "Snow!"

He struggled to his feet again, making progress through the drifts across the yard. Melinda followed him, and grabbed for his hand before he got to the edge.

"Don't go into the street," she reminded him, bringing him back to the area right in front of the porch.

She sat down on the steps, just watching as Aiden toppled around in the snow, making snow balls and letting them fall over himself.

He was so happy. She knew that she'd remember this day forever.

Getting an idea, she hurried to the garage, hearing Aiden's laughter and knowing that he was fine as she tugged a sled out.

"Look at this!" She announced, holding it up as she came back over to him.

"What is it?" He asked, eyes huge.

"It's a sled," she said. "It's magical."

"Ooh!" He replied, clapping his hands.

She set it on the ground. "Come on, baby, get on."

She carefully settled him onto it, and then started to carefully pull him around the yard.

He's ridiculously pleased by this new game.

And Melinda loves him for it. Children could be pleased so easily.

He got bored of the sled, eventually. She thinks of the day that she'll introduce him to sledding down hills and knows that he'll never be bored of sleds again.

He's getting tired, but he doesn't want to go in yet. It's getting to be dinner time. Melinda should go in and prepare something.

Not yet. There's one more thing they have to do.

The snow is the perfect texture, which is rare for a fresh fall, but it's not quite cold enough for it to be powdery.

It's still sticking.

So she starts to roll together a snow ball.

Aiden is bored at first, not paying attention, but as it gets bigger he runs over, jumping up and down.

"Ball!" He said.

"I'm making a snowman," she declared.

He watched her carefully, and she wondered what he was thinking.

As she placed a second ball on top of the first, Aiden's eyes widen.

"Dad!" He exclaims.

"Yes!" She said.

With that, he starts off, rolling his own ball. It's clumsy and crumbly but he grins. "Me!" He declares.

She finished Jim, and then helps Aiden finish his own.

They've just completed Melinda when Jim's car pulls into the driveway, signalling the end of his school day.

Aiden starts to clap, jumping in place as Jim gets from the car, looking tired but he's smiling, and he smiles wider when Aiden runs to him, clinging to his legs.

Jim swings Aiden up into his arms, embracing him and tickling him, and bringing back the giggles.

Melinda walks forward and Jim embraces her, too.

"I see you had a busy afternoon," he whispers, his face warm against her cold one.

"Yeah, Aiden and I've been out here for hours," Melinda confesses.

Jim glances enviously around the yard. "Sledding too," he says. "How about we take him to the hill this Saturday?"

"He'll love it," Melinda agreed, meeting his lips for a quick kiss.

Aiden, ever the copycat, smushes his face near theirs, getting himself caught in the middle of it. Jim kisses one fat cheek, and Melinda kisses the other, and they meet each others' gazes in between.

And they're just one little family. Or two, Melinda thinks, glancing at the snowmen.


	54. Hot Baths (Day 14)

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Day 14: Hot Baths (and a twist requested by GhostWhispererFangirl)

I allude to events in ch 27 so feel free to double check what that was. :)

* * *

Melinda cursed, a rare moment for her.

Jim jerked around.

"Why are we doing this ourselves?" Melinda said.

"What do you mean?" He asked, chuckling.

"Why can't we get a handyman out here to fix the damn heating?" She asked, propping hands on hips.

"It's not like we're cold anymore," Jim said, his eyes sweeping over her jean and tank top clad self.

"A very small comfort," Melinda sighed. "Jim, seriously, we're not going to get this damn thing done. I have no idea what I'm doing. You have no idea what you're doing."

"I do too," he protested, gesturing behind him. "We just have to get this piping right—"

Melinda sighed, sinking down onto the basement steps behind her. "First the yard, now this."

"We can't afford workmen," Jim said. "You know that. We both knew that when we bought the house. We'd do it ourselves."

"Yeah, but that was before the paint in the shower, and the tree falling in the yard, and after the windows..." Melinda trailed off, seeing the look on his face. She reached to pull her sweater back on, feeling the winter day's chill after not being active for so long. "Let's get back to work," she sighed.

He smiled softly, pulled her to him for a brief moment, and she could feel him inhaling the scent of her hair. "I love you," he breathed, pressing a kiss to her neck before pulling away.

She immediately missed the strength of his arms around her, but went back to her job. "So I'm cranking the wrench," she stated.

"Yeah, and I'm going to open this up," Jim said. "If you did your job correctly, and you did, cause I was watching, this should fix our hot water problem."

"Okay," Melinda said. "Go."

She watched him as he twisted his wrench, muscles in his back rippling.

And then a sound of moving water.

"That should be the water returning to the radiators," Jim cheered. "Hurry, run upstairs and see if it worked."

She jogged up the stairs, passing by the front door; through the front windows she could see snow outside.

She pulled the faucet on, turning it to hot, and cheered when the water came out warm.

"We did it!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down, turning around to run back down and celebrate with him, but Jim was already there, and she collided with him.

Muscles collided with curves, and she gasped at the look in his eyes.

Melinda opened her mouth to speak, but Jim's mouth descended on hers, immediately asking her to open up to him.

Oh, this felt good. So good.

She pulled away. "We did it," she said softly, staring up at him.

"We did," he returned, holding tight. "Thank you, Mel."

"For what?" She whispered.

"Letting us do it together," he said, hands going up and down her back. "Listening to me when I said we could do it ourselves."

"Well, it meant so much to you," she said, eyes falling from his beautiful, clear blue eyes to his lips.

He groaned at seeing it, and kissed her again.

"Okay, stop, I want to put my hands on your head, but they're all gross," Melinda said, pulling away. "And our clothes are filthy."

"Then we can take them off," Jim suggested.

She opened her mouth to protest, but then realized the wisdom.

"We can do better than that," she said, eyes sparkling. "We can properly celebrate the return of our hot water."

"How?" He asked, hands moving up her back.

"By taking a bath," she told him.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is really just a tease for the ao3 version.


	55. Test

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

Tag to 4x5: Bloodline.

* * *

 _Your body didn't support the pregnancy._

Melinda knew, in her gut, that it was a technical term. That it wasn't supposed to mean...what she was taking it to mean.

She looked down at her stomach, at her hands, the hands that Jim used to be holding, the hand that hadn't wanted to let go of his.

She inhaled, as the nurse poked her head in. "Ooh, not dressed yet? I'll check back later."

She didn't even get a moment longer.

She felt Jim's absence keenly as she dressed, pulling on the black shirt and gray jumper she'd been wearing previously, knowing in her heart that she'd never want to wear this outfit again.

Never.

She whimpered a little, looking at a poster on the wall talking about baby development at 6, 8, 12 weeks.

Damn it. Everyone...everyone could talk about that but her, it suddenly seemed.

She hadn't even had a month, had she?

She remembered the tests...all ten of them. At first she and Jim had made a game of it, when the first test was negative. Of course it would be wrong. Laughing and flirting, she'd teased him into getting another one at the store.

For the third, she'd gone with him, and, unable to wait, she'd gone in the drugstore bathroom and tried it there.

Fuck.

The look on Jim's face as she exited the bathroom for the last time.

The look she knew had to have been on her face as she just crumpled into his arms, unable to hold herself up any longer.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

She remembered the crisp feel of Jim's blue paramedic shirt, wilting under her tears. She remembered his arms around her, his hands soothing her, his voice talking her through it as he led her out to the car.

The silence on the way home. How neither of them had known what to say and Melinda hated it.

She'd give anything to be in those moments again instead of here in the hospital alone.

Her clothes were on, rumpled but on.

She stumbled out of the room, and Ned was one of the first people she saw.

Oh thank god.

Someone to lean on.

FFF

She got home after work, after an afternoon of hauling furniture with Delia. It had been a welcome distraction, but now...it had just been a distraction. It wasn't enough to pull her out of it permanently.

She ended up in the doorway to their planned nursery. To staring at the wallpaper.

And then she just crumpled, her legs giving way as she fell to the floor, curling herself into a ball.

She was done. She couldn't do this. It hurt too much.

The sobs were coming on, so fast and hard, constricting her lungs, making it hard to breathe as she clutched at her flat stomach. The stomach that wouldn't grow and expand. Not now.

She inhaled, or tried too.

Maybe not ever.

She wanted this. She wanted this so much. She wanted to carry a child.

She wanted to carry Jim's child.

Why the hell had they waited?

Why had they waited?

She managed to sit up, shoving herself to a seated position. She...she didn't want to still be like this when Jim got home.

No.

She stumbled to her own bedroom, pulling off her clothes, blindly looking for her pajamas, but she saw one of Jim's shirts in the laundry (it would smell like him) she pulled it on, close around her bare and barren body.

And then she sat down on the bed, only wearing Jim's shirt, tears streaming down her face.

He was going to be late. It was a late shift. A late shift.

He was going to be gone, almost all the night.

She whimpered, not wanting to let the sobs out, afraid that she'd never stop crying.

Her baby. Her own precious baby. She'd lost him or her. It was her fault.

The sound that came surprised her, especially when she realized it was coming from herself. She was shaking, and she finally gave fully into it, not recognizing anything around her.

All she could think of was the tests, of the sticks coming back without two squiggly lines. Of Jim's face.

Of behing told that she had, actually, been pregnant.

Or maybe not. She'd conceived.

Had she even been pregnant, truly, scientifically, medically?

Would she ever be pregnant?

Would Jim Clancy's baby ever be present in her womb?

Jim's baby. Carrying his child, someone who'd look like him, love her like he did, be so loved by his parents that...that they'd drive him or her crazy.

What if they couldn't have that?

Why had they waited?

Her sobs slowly stalled, grew silent. Arms still wrapped around herself, Melinda breathed out, loosening her hold.

The bed dipped. The bed dipped and Jim was there, arms coming around her immediately, without asking if this was what she needed right now because he knew that it was.

Jim was there, and he wasn't speaking. He just pulled her to him, between his legs, rested her head against his chest, one arm tight around her waist.

"This doesn't change things," he said, after they'd just sat there for a long, long moment. "It doesn't. We can try again. We'll make it, Mel."

"You came home early," she said, sniffing a little, and he handed her his handkerchief.

"I did," he whispered. "I told Bobby it was an emergency and I just left. I...I shouldn't have let you go home alone, Mel."

"I mean, I went to the shop first, so whatever," she said, pulling away.

His arms tightened. "No, not whatever. I'm sorry, Melinda. I wasn't...there."

"You were," she whispered. "You are now. I just...can't handle this."

"Can't handle what?" He asked. "Me feeling guilty? Are you the only one allowed that feeling right now?"

The words struck home with her.

"Do you think that I don't blame myself?" Jim asked, voice raw. "It was my sperm. It was me, who kept pressing you and pushing you, and who knows why you lost the baby but I really don't think our all night relay last week could have helped anything."

"Sex is totally safe," Melinda choked out. "It's always safe during pregnancy. I googled it...when I thought I was still pregnant."

Her voice broke.

"And you weren't pushing me anymore than I was pushing myself."

"I can't hurt you like this again." The words were flat, and they broke Melinda's heart all over again.

"It wasn't you," she whispered.

"It wasn't you either," he swore. "Oh god, Melinda."

She calmed. She was calm. She could breathe again. Jim was still holding tight and she managed to bring his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers.

"You can hurt me again," she began. "If it comes to that. If...if having a baby means jumping through hoops and pain...I'm...I have to be ready, Jim. I'll do what it takes. I want...I want you. I want your baby."

She began to cry again, but now she was twisting in his arms, pressing kisses all over his face, clinging to him, to her husband, to the lifeline he was and always would be.

"I want to have your baby," she managed to say again. "No matter what it takes."

His eyes were so serious, so dark she almost couldn't see the blue. "Deal," he whispered.

* * *

A/N: I can so picture this conversation happening, esp because of their conversation at the end about adopting.


	56. Comparison

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Got this idea while watching 5x7, but decided to place it within the season one time frame of Jimel.

I wrote it down on a notepad, scribbled before I went to sleep last night so that I wouldn't forget. The exact wording was, I believe,

 _Melinda calls a male celebrity hot and Jim acts weird._

So I think I nailed it.

* * *

"God, he's hot."

The words were breathed out in a husky whisper, jerking Jim's head up from where he sat all the way across the room from Melinda, stretched out on the kitchen floor to try to fix a leak in the piping under the sink.

He almost bumped his head but realized it just in time and moved aside so that his head came out of the sink bruise free, staring into the living room where his wife sat in front of the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

On screen, a man's bare chest was very prominently displayed as said man went through the motions of chopping wood, shoulders and arms rippling, defined chest and stomach contracting, all while droplets of sweat played across tanned skin.

Jim raised an eyebrow, looking down at himself for a moment, before looking at Melinda again.

Her hand was on her chest, as if clutching at her heart, and her lips were parted in a very obvious and telling expression of lust that Melinda Gordon only rarely got on her face.

He swallowed as he watched her, his mouth suddenly going dry. She was making little gasps as, on screen, the male lead noticed that the female lead was watching him and started to show off, stretching and flexing.

Jim lazily stretched his arms out in front of him, but Melinda's eyes didn't move off of the television. Her legs, formerly tucked up against her chest, gradually moved to sprawl open.

Jim found that he was short of breath, and forced himself to go back beneath the sink. This job was almost done. He had to focus. Focus, and then, only then, would he let himself make love to his wife.

If she'd let him.

He frowned, taking one more peek at her. He couldn't see her hands from where he was sitting and felt a distinct dissatisfaction as he slid back under the sink again, reaching for his wrench.

Come on. Almost done.

"Melinda!" He called a moment later. "Could you fetch me the screwdriver on the table?"

"Huh?" There was utter obliviousness in her voice.

"Could you pass me the screwdriver?" Jim said, not even faking the request anymore. Oh, shit, he'd screwed up this thing from watching Melinda.

"Um, in a minute, this scene is almost over," Melinda said abstractly.

Jim cursed, and knew that she didn't even hear it, feeling oncoming dread. If he didn't get a screwdriver soon...

"Melinda!" He called. "Please!"

"Just a second," she said and Jim got a face full of water.

Oh, damn it all. He was taking out the cable.

He came out from under the sink, splutting, grabbed the freaking screwdriver and dived back underneath, trying to minimize the damage.

"Oh, I guess you got it?" Melinda called.

"Yeah," he grunted, expecting her to come in and see, after his explosion of cursing and the sound of the water, but there was no sound to signal that she'd even moved.

He came out from under the sink, making a note to call a plumber tomorrow. This wasn't going to work. He'd patched it as best as he was able, but it was all ruined.

He moved into the living room, and onscreen the male lead was now kissing the female lead.

Melinda's eyes were wide and she let out a little gasp as the screen showed him groping her ass, pulling her nearer, his mouth going to bite her suddenly bare shoulder.

Jim frowned. It was shoddy camera work; the love scene was very obviously a modge podge collection of random shots instead of an actual makeout session, and the female lead's gasps and moans didn't even make an impression on him.

But the male lead...well, maybe this program really was targeted toward women, Jim reflected, as the camera panned down his ass and legs, the male lead moving in to dip the female lead over his arm, said arm rippling with muscle.

Melinda whimpered a little as the male lead's hands travelled up to the female's leads breasts, and Jim felt a sudden, restless itch to prove to Melinda that he could give it to her much better than this male lead was doing it to the woman on screen. He frowned as the scene switched to a shot of candles (hadn't the couple been outside? How did they get inside?) and now they were on the bed, barely covered by sheets.

"Damn it," Melinda cursed, and Jim startled again. "They switched before he said it."

"Said what?" Jim asked, getting on his knees behind the couch and moving his hands to Melinda's shoulders, massaging the skin there.

She immediately angled her head to a better position for his hands to go in and press against her, finding every spot of tension in her shoulders and neck.

"That he loved her," Melinda said, sighing a little as Jim hit a particularly tender spot. "Oh, god, Jim, right there, please."

Oh yeah. He was winning. She was leaning into the massage, even arching her back a little, and then the duo onscreen began to kiss again after a particularly boring and stilted conversation.

She squealed, arching forward as the sheet covering the male lead's ass started to slip and even Jim's eyes widened.

"Oh my god, did that seriously just happen?" Melinda cried. "Why the hell didn't I think to record this episode?"

It ended then, male lead's ass barely covered.

Jim felt a bit frozen as Melinda stood up, running to the phone. "Oh my god, I have to call Andrea, I can't believe they almost showed Parker's goods," she said. "Andrea's going to kill me for not recording."

"So that's why you were watching?" Jim asked, forcing a casual tone as he stood up, feeling himself get harder just by looking at his wife, who was still open mouthed and wide eyed. "To give a report to Andrea?"

"No, not really, but we do both watch it and I know that she had to miss this week's episode," she said distractedly. "Damn, voicemail."

She hung up and Jim took that opportunity to turn off the TV.

"You were...really into that show," Jim said. "I don't think I've ever seen you watching it before."

"Well, you haven't," Melinda said simply, walking into the kitchen. "What is this mess? Did you get the sink fixed?"

He bit back the reply he wanted to give, settling for a shrug. "Temporarily. I guess I'll have to get a guy out here tomorrow after all."

"Well, I told you," Melinda said, propping hands on very delectable hips.

"I almost made it, I just didn't reach my screwdriver in time," he said, hoping the words would call for self-condemnation in Melinda but she turned a clear gaze up to meet Jim's eyes.

"That sucks, why didn't you have your tools next to you?" She asked. "Did it explode? There's water on the floor, Jim."

She stretched up to get the towel from the rack and then crouched down to mop up the rest of the water.

Jim blinked at this unexpected show of acrobatics, even harder than he'd already been.

"My shirt got wet too," he said. "I got a face full of water."

She didn't even look at him. "Then take it off, silly," she said, and Jim, planning to wait until she was looking at him, grew impatient when she kept her back to him, and just yanked it over his head, throwing it towards the laundry room.

"So, you watch this show regularly?" Jim said.

"Yeah, I usually record it because we're busy on Sunday nights usually," Melinda said, finishing mopping the water and standing up.

"So when do you watch it?" Jim wondered, folding his arms over his chest.

She glanced up at him, gaze skating over nude, muscled chest, and low rise jeans only just clinging to his hips.

"Whenever you aren't here and I'm bored, I guess," she said, shrugging. "It's not your kind of show so I watch it late nights that you aren't here."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked. "It's not my kind of show?"

"Well, you were watching tonight, it was a period piece and you aren't much for historicals," Melinda said. "Plus, very romantic and you've groaned at every love scene you've seen, calling it out as fake."

"It is fake," Jim defended. "Just actors on a screen, being paid to look good and...flex. He couldn't even act well, Melinda."

"Hey, Parker Green is one of my favorite actors," Melinda defended.

"With an ass like that, it's not hard to see why," Jim mumbled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Melinda asked, eyes narrowing.

"I'm just saying, if it were me, and I were watching Riley Parks' new show about playing a sexy masseuse, you would not think that it was okay," Jim said, throwing up his hands.

She huffed, hands again going to her hips.

"You're saying that I only watch the show for his hot body?" She said.

"You're the one who said it, not me," Jim challenged. "Mel, you were so into it that you completely ignored me when I asked for the screwdriver."

Her cheeks flushed, as if finally remembering his request. "You should have kept your tools closer by, then," she bit back. "Don't blame that on me."

"I don't see why you watching Mr. Hottie over there is better than me watching Riley Parks," Jim said. "Which you explicitly banned the first time I saw a promo for it."

"You're jealous," Melinda challened. "You're just jealous."

"Damn right I'm jealous," Jim said, and she blinked, surprised. "I'm jealous that a two dimensional character with a nice ass distracted my wife away from me so much that she couldn't handle me a screwdriver, and that she was so into getting a glimpse of said ass that she pulled away from me just as I was about to kiss her."

"Oh." Melinda said. She stared at him for a moment, before lowering her gaze, moving her hands to fiddle with the hem on her shirt. "I guess I do get kind of into it."

He sighed. "A train could have come through the house and you wouldn't have noticed," he said, unfolding his arms. "And there's the fact that, before tonight, I had no idea that you watch this show."

"I'm obviously not hiding it intentionally," Melinda said. "I mean, I watched it tonight and you were just in the other room."

"It's surprising," Jim said. "I don't..." He looked at her, gaze intent on her face, voice lowering unintentionally. "I don't like the thought of you alone in the house, without me, watching that show. Just like you wouldn't want me alone watching Riley Parks."

She swallowed as his voice deepened, her throat working.

Jim moved closer. "Do I not look good enough shirtless?" He asked, moving to stretch his arms overhead.

"Um..." She whispered, voice not working very well. He saw muscles jump in her jaw, in her neck, as she tilted her head back to look at him, the same look on her face that she'd had earlier when surveying Parker Green.

"Do I not cut wood enough?" Jim asked, capturing her wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the frantic pulse there.

"Um..." Melinda repeated, eyes wide as he brought her hand down to press against his bare stomach.

"I know my stomach isn't as toned as his was, but is it not good enough for you?" He asked, spreading her fingers over his rock hard stomach. "Do you want me to start spending six hours a day at the gym too? Because that's what it takes."

"No," she gasped, as he brought her hand up to his pecs and shoulders, moving it down to rest on one arm.

"So what do I not have that Parker does?" Jim asked.

She blinked at him, open mouthed again. "Honestly..."

"Yeah, honestly," he said, spreading her fingers over his arm. "Even if I don't like the answer."

He picked her hand up again, bringing it up to his lips, letting himself suck the tip of one finger into his mouth as she watched.

"Honestly, Jim," she said, throat working again, moving closer to him. "He's got nothing on you."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he moaned, and pulled her to him.

* * *

A/N: Reviews on this chapter get all of my lovely readers the ao3 version uploaded (as chapter 50!) ...and, naturally, it's about 1k longer.


	57. Ride

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: So 5x10 was a sweet episode. Jim was so caring and protective. It just sucked that there wasn't a Jimel kiss, and that he wasn't there for her at the end. So that's what this is.

* * *

Melinda left Aiden's room, feeling let down and disappointed as she moved to her bedroom and changed into a white nightgown.

This should have been a relief. In a way, it was. Officer Ramsey hadn't been intentionally targeting her. At least she didn't have to worry about that. But the issues...she feared for the Ramseys. It didn't seem like a good ending. It didn't seem like enough.

Then again, maybe Melinda was just being the overprotective mother she was. She hated to think of a day when a hug from Aiden wasn't enough. When he'd want to go, spread his wings, leave her side.

She walked downstairs, seeing her new car outside in the driveway, and smiled in spite of herself. She couldn't believe how sweet Jim had been over the whole ordeal, taking it upon himself to pick out the perfect car...and she hadn't even properly thanked him. The promised car ride had been a no go when he'd been called into work and she'd been so let down after the Ramseys that Aiden could tell she wasn't in the mood.

She needed more than that, though.

She sat on the couch, leaning her head back, listening. The clock ticked. There was the sound of bugs outside. And a car rolling into the driveway.

Jim.

She almost ran to the door, and flung it open. There was clear surprise on Jim's face when she did so.

"Mel?" He asked, quickening his pace. "Is there something wrong? Is Aiden missing again?"

Damn it. She had given that impression lately, hadn't she? Only going to him for help and advice, and to break hospital rules, instead of really, actually going to him. She'd been using him. And he'd let her, gladly let her, but it was still wrong.

"I just missed you," she said, moving to embrace him. God, she loved her doctor husband.

"Are your ghosts all crossed over?" Jim asked, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head before untangling himself from her embrace, walking towards the kitchen, loosening his tie.

She frowned. Was he pulling away from her?

"Yeah, it...it was a little rough," she said, following him and sitting on a stool, watching him move about the kitchen. "I think the Ramseys learned a lesson that they won't forget. It was Ann Marie who trashed the mailbox. You know what, I don't really want to talk about ghosts."

Jim met her gaze, surprised. "I don't mind, Mel. You always talk about them."

"Yeah, ghosts or Aiden," Melinda said, feeling a lump come into her throat. "Even at our date, we were just talking about Aiden and Eli and Officer Ramsey. When was the last time we talked about us?"

"I thought we didn't need to," Jim said carefully, moving towards her.

"I miss you," Melinda said. "I really miss you and it doesn't make sense because you were doing so much for me these past few days, with the car and with...everything. And I was just so all over the place that I completely missed it, everything you were doing."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, moving close and crouching in front of her.

She responded by slinging her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. "This," she said. "I've missed this. I haven't kissed you goodbye or hello in forever and I hate that our relationship, through my fault, no less, has become about ghosts and Aiden."

Jim sighed. "It was always about ghosts," he teased, pulling her into his arms, princess style. She clung to him. "And now that we're parents, yeah, our common ground is our kid. Well, our common ground expands to include Aiden. And that's okay. But...maybe you're right."

He pressed a kiss to her mouth, and she sighed at his touch.

"We haven't been focusing on us enough," he continued, pulling at the straps of her nightgown. "Not nearly enough. You got this new nightgown and I haven't properly christened it yet."

"Christened it?" She asked, bursting out into laughter.

"Like I always christen your new nightwear," Jim responded, slipping one strap off of her shoulder and placing a kiss where the strap used to be. "By taking it off."

She grinned, interrupting his mouth's journey to her shoulder with her lips, pressing them to his, opening up to him.

He kissed her back, thoroughly and expertly, reminding her why she loved him and why she didn't want to take him for granted. Ever.

"We didn't get to take a ride in my new car yet," Melinda said. "And it sucks."

"What are you suggesting?" Jim asked, kissing down her neck, which she tilted outwards for him to better reach, sighing again at the feel of his lips on her skin.

"Well, if we...you...like to christen new nightwear, shouldn't we christen new cars as well? Especially when you were the one to get it for me, taking all that care," she said, trailing one hand down his chest.

He gasped as she found a tender spot. "So...are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Yeah, I mean, after all, this is one ride I don't think we want Aiden along on," she said slyly.

He chuckled, starting to move out the doorway of the kitchen and out to the car. The night air chilled her skin, pebbling her nipples, which Jim definitely noticed.

He opened the car door, quietly, and Melinda tilted the front seat back. "It's got three rows," she murmured, as Jim put her down and lay back on the seat. "Really big car. Lots of room to...stretch out."

She carefully climbed on top of him, being sure to not hit the steering wheel as she did so.

"There is a reason I picked this one," Jim said, reaching up to drag her nightgown down. "And that might be it."

"Good," she breathed, and shut the car door.

It was time to go for a ride.


	58. Together and Apart

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

* * *

"I don't want to be late," Melinda said, tugging Jim faster along the sidewalk.

He smiled at her anxiety, not letting her pull him faster. "We've got fifteen minutes to spare," he protested.

"We want seats, don't we?" Melinda urged. "Ones together? These weekend rides get crowded."

"Mel, we'll be fine," Jim said. "If there aren't any seats we can stand. And you can lean on me."

"Jim!" She exclaimed, charging to the station ahead of them. "Hurry. For me?"

"Okay," he conceded and moved forward, sliding an arm tight around her waist and sweeping her off of her feet, rushing them towards the railway stop. "If we'd driven to the stop, we wouldn't have this issue," he said, as she gasped, fighting against his hold.

"There's the train!" She moaned, spying it pulling into the station ahead.

"It's only just pulling in," he scolded, but quickened his pace anyway, setting her down and holding tight to her hand. People started to disembark from the train and Melinda started to all out run. Jim kept pace with ease, even as she pushed herself to her limits, noting the amusement with which the conductor was watching them approach. "I wouldn't actually have left without you two once I saw you running," he said in amusement as they, panting, clambered onto the train.

"We weren't sure how long the stop in Grandview is," Jim said, seeing Melinda clutching at a stitch in her side.

"I don't leave anyone behind once I see them," he reassured them, still chuckling.

"We'll remember that," Jim said, clapping a hand on Melinda's bare shoulder.

They turned to the doors and Jim leaned his head down to Melinda's ear. "See, we're fine," he teased. "Grandview is near enough to the start of the line that it's nowhere near full."

She huffed, pulling herself out from under his touch and moved up the stairs of the train to the upper level of the car.

"We can't sit next to each other up here," Jim commented as Melinda dropped into a forward facing seat.

She shrugged, and he sighed, knowing how important this trip was to her annd how he should have helped her hurry instead of teasing her.

The seat in front of her was reversible and Jim swiftly flipped it around to face her, settling into it with a sigh, his long legs tangling with her shorter ones as they sat across from each other.

"I'm sorry, Mel," he said softly, moving to take her hand. "I know you're looking forward to this book festival."

Melinda looked out the window as the train started to move, not looking at him. "Well, all's well that ends well," she said, voice tight.

Jim sighed, letting her pul her hand away from his and settle it on her lap. His wife looked...amazing. Utterly delectable. Her hair was up off of her neck for the heat, in a high, thick ponytail, and her curvy body was perfectly displayed by brown floral rompers, which were nipped at the waist to show off her enviable figure. Tantalizingly short and, though high necked in front, it dipped in the back, leaving most of it bare. He remembered the sight of all that skin, tan and toned, as she'd moved about getting dressed that morning, and shivered a little, his gaze moving to her feet.

She was wearing gladiator sandals; they just started to creep up her ankles.

Jim inhaled a little, forcing his mind off of how good Melinda looked now and had looked in bed that morning. Given that she was vaguely irritated with him right now, he knew that getting hard just from looking at her would help absolutely nothing.

She crossed and then uncrossed her legs, trying to get more comfortable on the cramped seat, and Jim felt a little light headed.

"So...tell me again what you're looking for," Jim said, a few minutes later.

"I'm looking for books," she said. "A wedding present. Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte..."

"Good choices," Jim said.

"And it'll be fun," Melinda said, chancing a glance at him.

He took that opportunity to move his legs closer to hers, wedging one knee in between her thighs.

She looked down at the sight, something softening in her face.

"Looking at old books, yeah, that's fun," Jim said, and something fell in her face, leaving her as sharp as before.

"Well, whatever," she said. "Maybe we can catch an earlier train back than we'd originally planned."

Jim bit his lip, wondering why she was so irritable today, and knowing that she wouldn't take his light remarks to heart if she was her usual self.

"I've been thinking," he said, after they'd stopped a few times and the train started to fill. "NYC is such a great city. We could stay overnight? Go to Mindy's for breakfast?"

"We have to get back early, so no," Melinda said, shooting the idea down instantly and Jim bit his lip.

They fell silent as the train advanced, gradually getting noisier as more people boarded.

When they finally reached their stop, Jim grabbed Melinda's hand as they stood up, keeping her close as they exited the train into a huge crowd of people.

Jim never got over this city; its immensity of people and sights and faces.

He felt Melinda's hand clinging to his as she led him through the crowd, letting her take charge. She'd always had a better sense of directions in NYC, knowing exactly where she was at all times. He'd never quite gotten to that point, though he'd lived there almost as long as she had.

"Hey, can I put my phone in your purse for safe keeping?" Jim asked, and she finally paused, stopping to let him slide it in.

He caressed his hand up and down her arm after doing so. "You okay?" He soothed. "Know what you're doing?"

"It's in Greenwich Village," she said. "In case you don't remember."

"I remember," he said. "Do you want to get a taxi?"

"No," she said, shooting him a distinctly dirty look and he completely gave up, just following her down the street.

The ebb and flow of traffic moved them forward, across streets and down others. They passed everything from McDonalds to office buildings, to high end stores, catering only to elite few.

And then they were there, in the midst of a book festival, as only NYC could put it on.

Melinda sighed as she looked at the sight in front of them, finally tugging Jim forward and letting them melt into the crowd.

People everywhere. Books everywhere. Any kind of accessory for books that you could think of, just waiting to be sold.

Melinda was picky, going from stall to stall and sizing them up instantly.

Jim just tagged behind, wanting to tease her about her singlemindedness but not daring to. He wasn't sure what was _actually_ bothering her but he'd have to find that out later, since if he asked now, _he_ would literally be what was bothering her.

And then she spotted what she was looking for, moving forward, tugging her hand from his.

He watched her go, folding his arms, not moving from the spot, just watching as she stepped forward to talk to multiple vendors, asking questions, getting answers.

He tilted his head up to the sky, looking at the clouds above.

And when he turned his gaze back to earth, his wife was nowhere in sight.

At first, he didn't panic. Why should he? She was a grown woman. She'd lived in this city on her own for a good five years and never run into any trouble.

And then, as the moments passed, and she didn't appear, he began to panic, just a bit, walking forward through the stalls.

Everywhere he turned were more people. Men, women, children, in such varying outfits that he couldn't help but smile a little at the diversity of the crowd. NYC didn't even have to _try_ to be diverse; it just _was._

And Melinda Gordon was one of these people. But she was nowhere in sight.

He reached down to his pocket, and his cell phone wasn't there and he panicked again before cursing himself upon remembering that it was in Melinda's purse. Yeah, that made sense.

He pushed through the crowd, looking in all directions, but she wasn't _anywhere._

And then he was distracted.

"Oh my god, he's choking!"

"Help!"

"Someone call 911!"

In an instant, his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm a paramedic," he bellowed, and the crowd parted to let him through. An elderly man was clutching at his throat, wheezing and trying to breathe.

Jim wrapped his arms around the man, finding the exact spot.

Moments later, the man was fine, having choked up...whatever it was.

Jim stood up, separated himself, accepted thanks.

And there was Melinda, standing at the edge of the crowd watching him.

He stepped forward, too happy to see her to care about her earlier behavior, pulling her to him and pressing a kiss to her parted lips.

"Where did you go?" He scolded.

"I didn't go anywhere, you're the one who stopped following," she said.

"How did you find me?" He whispered, ignoring her tone of voice to run his fingers along her jaw.

"I followed the screams," she said, leaning against him for an all too brief moment. "You never look as good as you do when you're in action," she whispered.

"I could say the same for you," he said.

"I didn't think it was a big deal; I thought you'd just call but I opened my purse to get my phone out and yours was there," Melinda said, rambling a little as they started through the crowd again, his arm tight around her shoulders. "And I started to panic because we didn't have a plan, and should I go back to the station and wait for you there? Would you find a payphone or something to call me? And then I couldn't remember if you'd even brought your wallet."

"I brought my wallet," he whispered. "I hadn't even gotten there yet. I was just giving myself a heart attack with what you could get into without me...I..." He shook his head.

"You could have found me, right?" She asked, looking up at him anxiously.

"I guess," he said. "If I'd managed to find the one person in the crowd who was being actively haunted."

She barked out a laugh. "Try five hundred," she gasped. "If you think there are a lot of people, there are a hell of a lot of ghosts."

"I believe it," he said, and they paused again. Jim turned her into his arms, pulling her close. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't even avoid the question. "I wanted it, this trip...for us," she said, looking up at his face and squinting from the bright sun. "After everything lately, after trying for a baby so much, and losing the baby, I just wanted a day...for us. I wanted it to be about you and me and you didn't even seem to care if we got there or not, so I was second guessing myself about what I'd picked to do, and it was just awful and we've got Tricia's wedding so soon, and I just wanted _you_ , Jim."

"Oh, Mel," he whispered, and bent his body down to meet her lips, moving against her and pulling her near. "I didn't realize. I just thought it was the shop and you wanted me to tag along and it didn't seem important to you."

He met her lips again, tasting their honey, bringing a moan from her. "I love that you planned this for us. I'm sorry for not appreciating it."

"I'm sorry," Melinda said. "I think I'm getting my period or something. I'm so damn moody."

Her throat worked at the words and he felt the double blow also: period meant no baby. Again.

He kissed her again. "Want to stay any longer?" He asked.

"Can we make the most of it?" She whispered. "Actually have a good time?"

"You bet," he said.

* * *

The train home was packed when they boarded, just a moment too late to get seats, having been busying themselves with a last minute makeout session before boarding the train.

They couldn't find seats together and Jim let her snag the last one, next to a tired looking woman and what looked to be her teenage son.

He folded his arms as he stood at the front of the train, keeping an eye on Melinda.

The train gradually, finally emptied.

Melinda stood up as soon as there was an empty bench, settling herself onto the seat, turning around to look for him as he walked up behind her and settled next to her, kissing her again and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"I want to begin this," she said, holding up a copy of Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South. "It's supposed to be really good."

"Okay," he said readily, and let her read, feeling a welcome weariness settle into his body.

Her body next to him was warm, soft.

He turned and carefully angled his body until his head was in her lap and he was gazing up at her face, swallowing a little at the magnificent view he was getting.

She moved the book aside, gazing down at his face, letting one hand drop to caress his cheek; scrape across the stubble beginning to grow there.

Her fingers were careful and Jim moved so that the tip of her pinky slipped into his mouth, and she jerked her hand away from him, leaving him to grin up at her. "This ride is too long for this, Jim," she warned, shifting a little, bringing her magnificent breasts a little closer to his face.

He sighed, wanting to just raise his head and capture them.

He pulled her hand back to his face but she pulled it back, raising an eyebrow and he sighed, turning his head on her lap so that he was facing the seat in front of them, letting himself be lulled into a light doze by the softness of her skin and the sound of the train.

She kept turning pages, shifting her body in different ways, turning his body on in different ways. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, and then another farther up, open mouthed.

She gasped, moving against his touch, shifting again. "Jim!" She scolded.

He kissed her other thigh in response, and he could feel her breasts leaning on his head as she leaned forward. "Stop it," she whispered, looking red in the face already.

"I don't want to," he breathed against her thighs and felt her shiver, body jerking.

"Jim," she moaned, keeping her voice low.

"Let me do this," he begged. "Let me make you come."


	59. The End

The Cosmic Law of French Toast by Meowser Hotchner

A/N: Tag to 5x21: Dead Ringer.

* * *

Jim's arm was around her as they looked at Aiden, their decision made. They'd lie tomorrow. Pretend. Say that ghosts weren't real. Never were.

His arm slipped away. "I have to go make sure that the doors are locked," he whispered, patting her shoulder.

She left Aiden's room in a daze, her mind still replaying the conversation she'd had with Jim. That had been such a dark moment for her. Such a dark moment for Jim. She couldn't...she couldn't blame him for what he'd said. They'd both been panicked, scared out of their minds.

She didn't even make it to the bedroom before her legs gave out, before the threatening sobs choked her and forced her to the ground, clutching at herself and begging her body and mind to keep her together, so that Jim wouldn't see.

She couldn't let him see. But the tears were coming quicker, choking her, and she couldn't breathe, let alone move from where she'd fallen, except to curl her knees into her chest, rocking herself back and forth, swearing that she'd make it through.

But how could she? Jim had always been her rock. Except when he was Sam, when it wasn't his fault that he hurt her, he had _always_ been the one constant in her life after her grandmother; he had been the one to believe. To support. To love her in spite of everything. Or even sometimes because of everything.

And now.

He hadn't said no.

He hadn't said no when she, in a moment of desperation and grief, had said that he'd be happier with a normal son. With a normal family.

With a normal _wife._

He hadn't said no.

The tears were bitter, choking, and she couldn't even see anything through the haze in her eyes and her heart.

She heard his footsteps, dully registered that he was coming up the stairs.

Heard his cry.

"Melinda!"

Heard him run forward, panic in his voice. "Melinda, what happened? Is it a ghost?"

She could hear the punishment in his voice. The anger that another ghost had gotten past him.

"No," she managed. "No ghost. No shadows."

His arms were around her, pulling her limp body into his arms. "Then what?" He asked, voice agonized.

Her face was pressed into his chest; he was lifting her and carrying her to the bed, placing her gently down and lying beside her, holding her tight. So tight.

She couldn't breathe.

"You didn't say no," she whispered, voice broken.

"What, Mel?" He asked, voice close to her ear.

"I get...wanting to stop Aiden, I get that," she said, trying to get the words out, so broken that she couldn't stop herself. "But you didn't tell me."

"What?" He asked.

"I said that you'd like it better if you had…" Melinda could feel her face twisting, the agony her mind was going through for even repeating the words. "A normal wife."

"Oh, no," Jim said. "No, Mel, you know that—"

"But you didn't tell me," Melinda said, sobbing so hard she could barely get the words out. "You didn't tell me no then. You just said that that wasn't fair."

"Melinda," Jim said, voice shaking. "It wasn't like that. I was angry, I was scared. Aiden was in danger."

"You still aren't," Melinda said, calming for one, terrible, instant, looking him straight in the eyes. "You're giving excuses. Because you're avoiding the question."

"No," Jim breathed, looking away from her.

"All those lonely nights you spent…" Melinda whispered, voice cold. "You were a paramedic, Jim. And now a doctor. Do you think that I haven't gone through just as many lonely nights as you have, if not more?"

"No," Jim said, his arms tightening around her but Melinda was fighting him, moving away.

"Do you think that I didn't go through _hell_ waiting for you to come back?" Melinda asked, voice dangerous. "And thinking that you never would."

"No," he pleaded, and sat up on the bed, letting her pull away.

His gaze was intense, holding her there, the only thing keeping her on the bed. "The reason I hate this so much," he began. "The reason I said yes so quickly...so easily...is because I don't hate what you do. I love it. And I am in pain right now from what it will mean for you...and Aiden...to give that up. And I _hate_ what it has done to our family. I hate that the best part of you is now a source of trouble for us."

He reached to take her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Melinda…" He whispered, voice broken. "I don't want to do this anymore than you do."

He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't...I can't stand the thought of this. Of you not being who you are in your... _our_...home. But it's Aiden."

He bit his lip, and for a moment she could see blonde hair, a face that wasn't Jim's.

"And he's the last piece of me that you have." He held her hand tighter, so hard that she could hardly breathe again. "Of _us_. The last piece of us, Melinda."

"But this is you," Melinda said, voice broken, reaching her other hand out to cup his cheek, hold his face in her hand. "You're you."

"But I'm also Sam," Jim whispered. "And that can't...won't...change."

She stared at him, heartsick. "I need you," she whispered. "In my life. You are... _you are_ my solace, Jim. You are my everything. I need _this_. I need the conversations that I can only, have only _ever_ been able to have with you."

She moved closer to him, pressing her lips to his. "Remember?" She whispered, voice soft. "Remember that day?"

"What day?" He asked, bringing her hands to his lips.

"When you were in that accident because...because you were late for work because of me," she said, a smile breaking through her tears. "Because I made you breakfast."

He nodded slowly. "The cosmic law of french toast."

She choked out a laugh, moving into his arms, eyes wet with tears again. "You have never stopped being what you were to me on that day," she promised. "Never. And god forbid that you ever will."

"I won't," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I never...ever want you to change." She could feel the hot wetness of his tears fall on her face.

"This won't break us," she said. "I swear to god, it won't."

"It can't," he said, and pulled away a little. "This is true love. Do you think this happens every day? Do you think a husband comes back from the dead just to be with his wife for...normal people?"

"Oh, god, I love you," she breathed, pressing her lips to his.

"And I love you," he whispered, kissing every tear away. "Always will. I don't want normal, Melinda. I never wanted normal. I wanted _you_."

* * *

A/N: A while ago, I said to GhostWhispererFangirl that I'd stop writing this once I finished the show.

Well, it happened. After months of putting it off, I watched the last episode today. So I wrote a tag to 5x21, and I wasn't going to quite end it here, but then it was right. It summed up everything, I think, of what this story was about.

And I know, there are some chapters and storylines that I didn't quite finish. I never finished that winter challenge. Melinda never figured out what exactly that lesbian couple actually meant for her and Jim. Rick and Melinda never finished ghost hunting.

For a show that was about unfinished business, that didn't get to finish theirs...well, maybe it's not just laziness in me that makes me want to end it here. Lay it to rest.

I'm going to keep writing for Ghost Whisperer, definitely.

But this is the end of _The Cosmic Law of French Toast_ by Meowser Hotchner.

As practically always, this chapter will be extended on ao3. And you've got better luck of finding me on there these days overall.


End file.
